The Secrets We Keep
by Feste the Fool
Summary: It's not just Merlin. In fact, it's never been just Merlin. Camelot is rife with secrets and, one by one, they are all being exposed. And the Cup of Life is the ultimate McGuffin. Reconciliation story, so AU and strange. Also now a five-and-one. COMPLETE!
1. Gwaine 1

**I don't own _Merlin. _My first _Merlin_ story, with a few cookies to my Squire's Tales readers. **

**FULL SUMMARY because this just became a project.  
**

**It's not just Merlin. It's never been just Merlin. Camelot is rife with secrets and lies, and none have more to hide than the very members of Arthur's inner circle. In fact, Arthur's the only completely honest one of the bunch. In particular, there are six major secrets, or six clusters of secrets. Six life-changing, earth-shattering, exile-risking, execution-worthy secrets floating around Arthur's Round Table in one way or another. Now, with the king mad and Morgana evil and Agrivaine at Arthur's side, those secrets are being exposed one…by…one. It began with Gwaine. Where will it end?**

**Through these secrets, Arthur will learn more about himself, his friends and subjects, and what it means to be king. Friendships will strengthen or break, philosophies of life and magic will be revolutionized, Albion will be united (mostly by accident), and what's more: destinies—NOT just Arthur's and Merlin's—will be fulfilled. Five secrets will blow up in Arthur's face, and one secret Arthur will blow open himself. Five secrets will tear Camelot to pieces and one will change the entire world.**

**This story will reconcile (read: restore, settle, make congruous, FIX) the plots and characters of the show with the plots and characters of the original legends. Each secret (yes this did turn into a five-and-one, as insane as it sounds) will be revealed in a series of nine to twelve bite sized chapters with one final last secret chapter at the end. The last chapter of each secret will be an explanation of what was changed to fit the show and legend together. **

**T****he secret-holders: Gwaine, Percival, Freya, Guinevere, Lancelot, Merlin. The secrets? If you know absolutely anything at all, even the bare minimum, about Arthurian cycles, you can get a pretty good idea of what those secrets are. Except for Merlin's. His is kind of obvious. Still a mostly comedic story, despite the dramatic summary. Expect Percival's up as soon as I get the chance to rewatch "The Eye of the Phoenix." **

* * *

No one knew how it happened. Camelot didn't hear of it until a good six weeks after the fact and even then there were some doubts as to the truth of the event. The source of information was reliable, but secretive. No one knew where it came from or where it started, but it was common knowledge before the week was out. The dangerous sort of common knowledge, the stuff that can make people panic and get good men killed.

King Lot ap Gwyar was in possession of the Cup of Life, but he didn't know what it was. Yet.

Lot had been a relatively minor king until recent days. He ruled the highlands of Albion, a wild and craggy country known for strong and dour fighters and political traditions that made even less sense than usual. No one had really understood how he became king, but he kept to himself and ruled his kingdom as he saw fit. Which was with a firm military hand, considering all the uprisings among his own people and the threat of war from the barbarian kingdoms on all sides. He stayed well away from southern politics and even farther away from Camelot, which had suited Uther quite well.

Rumor had it that those civil and border wars had tapered off in the last decade or so, however, and Lot was able to actually rouse his military into expansion. Camelot had not paid much attention to his goings-on and he was allowed to grow in power and land. He still did not have the political influence needed to be successful in the south, however, and that was what he longed for.

Camelot was forced to pay attention to the uncivilized Northern warlord-king, however, when his kingdom grew stable enough to enable him to take over the late King Cenred's lands with relative ease, no fuss, and minimum bloodshed. He moved his capitol into Cenred's old castle and tried to set himself up as an old Southern king come home at last. His practices remained unchanged from his Northern traditions and the surrounding kingdoms considered him little better than the barbarians he used to face.

Arthur, therefore, had only ever _heard_ of Lot and his sons Garis, G'reth, Gravain, and daughter Elaine. He knew nothing about them beyond their names and didn't care to know much more. He had bigger things to worry about, what with his father's refusal to do anything but sit and stare out a window since Morgana's betrayal and the arrival of his uncle and brand new advisor and the establishment of the secret Order of the Round Table.

Then came the rumors about the Cup.

Then the rumors were proven true.

A newer member of Lot's court was a rotten apple with a much abused conscience who saw the Cup and recognized it from when he was a servant at Camelot fighting for his life not two months before. As little as he cared for politics or getting involved in anything over his head, he knew the Cup for what it was immediately. He had no desire to see another immortal army in his life time, so he sold the information to an equally conscientious rat in Camelot who brought the matter before the Regent. The Northern newcomer could no longer be ignored. He had the power of life and death in the palm of his hands and didn't even know it.

It was probably best that the situation was amended. Soon.


	2. Gwaine 2

Arthur called together the young, green Round Table, their vows still fresh in their minds, to see what would be done about this turn of events.

"I'd like to know how it got in his hands in the first place," Elyan said. "I mean, does anyone know what happened to it after the battle?"

Merlin turned a vivid shade of crimson and stared at the table. Lancelot lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if asking for a benediction. "It doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" he asked. "The point is he has it and we don't."

"We can't let him keep it," Arthur said. "That much we know for sure. And we need to get it back soon, too, before Morgana can get any new ideas. The only question is how do we go about getting it back?"

"We can storm the castle," Percival suggested. Always the most straightforward route, that was Percival.

Arthur shook his head. "We don't know enough about Lot's army. I won't risk men on a possible suicide mission."

"That would only alert him that he has something of extreme value, anyway. If we just wanted his lands, we'd loot the outlying towns, not head straight for his vaults," Lancelot said.

"If it's even in the vaults," Leon pointed out.

"Oh, I'm sure it is," Gaius said. Yes, he was a member of the Round Table, for all that he wasn't a knight. "I've been doing research on the Cup of Life. Even if Lot thinks it's just a normal wooden cup, he'll want to guard it. The Cup has that effect on people's minds. You could call it a defense mechanism."

"As far as we know, he thinks Cenred's castle was looted of everything worthwhile after Cenred died. No need to let him know he may have something now." That was Lancelot again.

"What about a distraction?" Gaius asked. "You could have a small group attack from one side while another snuck in and went for the cup."

"I don't think attacking would serve as much of a distraction," argued Elyan. "Besides, you'd still be putting those men at risk. We could plan something in the town itself?"

Percival shook his head. "Not big enough."

"Or too big. I don't think we want to cause undue attention." Arthur ran a hand across his face.

"Well…" Gwen bit her lip. "What if you were to have someone inside the castle? An inside man, maybe pretending to be a servant? He could steal the cup and bring it back."

"I know what the cup looks like," Merlin piped up, liking the sound of that plan very much. "I volunteer. And you can have a couple of knights around the city. I'm sure Lot doesn't know all the people left over from Cenred's rule."

"I don't think so," Lancelot said with a sharp glare in his direction.

"Not a chance. Too much risk, both for you and of a failure," Arthur said with a nod. "It's a good idea, Gwen, but I don't think it'll work. Leon, you look like you've got something."

Leon had been tugging his scraggly beard for the last five minutes. He gave it one more pensive pinch. "Lot's only been in Cenred's castle for a few months," he said slowly. "I would not doubt that we know more about his new hold than he does. "

A light of comprehension filled Elyan's eyes. "And we do have a rather intimate working knowledge of his dungeons and inner keep…"

Arthur sat up straighter. "Sneak in?"

"It's not very knightly, but it would work," Leon said with a shrug. "Less of a risk, too, and less of a chance of attracting attention, as long as we're careful."

"It's a good idea," Gaius said.

Gwen bit her lip again. "I don't know. It sounds dangerous."

"Relax," Elyan said with a teasing smile. "If something goes wrong, he won't be able to put us in the dungeons, because we'll already be there."

They made plans, hashed out a few details, and even had time for supper before Arthur realized there was something wrong. "…Gwaine?" he said. "You've been refreshingly silent on this whole matter. Something wrong?"

Gwaine took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. "…No, I don't think so." His words were short and a little regretful. This wasn't like him at all. "It's just…King Lot, that's all."

"What about him?"

"…We don't get on."

"You know him?" Elyan asked. "It might be useful later."

The other knight just shrugged. Merlin looked sympathetic. He knew, without even thinking about it, that King Lot must have been the king who had gotten Gwaine's father killed. "Actually," Gwaine continued, "it might be best if I stayed out of the whole affair."

The others stopped eating and stared. "What?" he asked. "Was it something I said?" Not a word. Gwaine shrugged again. "It was just a thought. And on second thought, not a very good thought either. Forget I said anything. I'm game if you are."


	3. Gwaine 3

And that was how the men of the Round Table (minus Gaius) found themselves dressed in black from head to toe and wearing executioner's hoods over their faces, sneaking into a castle to steal a wooden cup from a foolish king. Elyan, Arthur, and Merlin knew their way around Cenred's castle better than anyone else in the bunch, so they divided into two parties. Elyan led Merlin, Lancelot, and Percival into the castle from the never-noticed side gates while Arthur led Leon and Gwaine through the tunnels into Cenred's old dungeons.

There were several changes made to Cenred's old castle now that Lot was in charge. The whole city was _louder, _somehow, and had a devil-may-care attitude about it that contrasted sharply with both Cenred's tactics of scaring his people into submission and Camelot's quiet order and organization. The castle itself seemed brighter, and there were slightly more animal skins than draperies lying and hanging around.

The atmosphere made it easy for Elyan's band to slip in through the side gates unnoticed, as the very few guards nearby were paying more attention to a dog fight and less to the gates they should have been guarding. For what little Merlin thought of Camelot's guards, he had to admit they were better than Lot's. They had only one close call when a violently red-headed boy in his very late teens caught sight of them as they entered the castle proper. The four of them darted into the shadows, hoping the teen would not be too curious. Merlin even cast a bit of magic to make the Camelot men harder to see. At first the ginger seemed unaffected, but he moved on without too much inspection. The would-be thieves cautiously made their way to the old treasure rooms where the others should be waiting.

Arthur's task was slightly more difficult, as Lot's dungeons were considerably more full than Cenred's had ever been. Apparently the Northern king believed in actually imprisoning his prisoners instead of taking them into the courtyard and running them through. Once the three knights made it into the dungeons and away from the prisoners, they had to sneak past the guards. Lot had an unbelievable number of guards in his dungeons, one of them was giving a fighting lesson to a boy _on the steps into the castle._ The boy was perhaps thirteen or fourteen with dark auburn hair and a facial structure that was so familiar-yet-not, it nearly drove Arthur mad. At last the lesson made its way up the stairs and into a smaller hallway, allowing the three knights to escape.

The band reunited in the treasure chambers, and it was easy to see that the group of four had already been there for several minutes, searching. "Any luck?" Arthur whispered, not removing his hood.

The largest hooded figure—it had to be Percival—shook his head and started working on another shelf.

"You'd think it wouldn't be hard to find one little wooden cup among—" Elyan's whisper stopped abruptly as he stumbled across a wooden cup. He held it up. "This it, Merlin?"

The smallest black figure turned his pale blue eyes upon the cup in Elyan's hands. "Um…nope, sorry. Too skinny on the bottom." The knight sighed and replaced the cup.

"Question," said Leon as his group began to join the search. He narrowly avoided tripping over a bejeweled sheath on the ground before continuing. "Does it concern anyone else that the dungeon was crawling with armed guards and _no one_ was standing outside the equivalent of Camelot's vaults?"

"Uh…" said someone. Who will never be known, because at that instant, things began happening very quickly.

"Found it!" Merlin cried, shoving an unassuming wooden cup into the rucksack at his side.

"Elyan, Merlin, Lancelot, Percival," Gwaine demanded, leaping forward, his voice low and hoarse. "Were you seen? Did anyone, _anyone_ at all, see you heading in this direction?"

The four looked at each other. "There was that ginger," Lancelot said.

"What ginger?"

"Just some ginger man."

"But We lost him," Merlin argued. "We had to have lost him."

"Did he have crazy red hair, cropped short? Tallish man? Had a sword at his sided, but walked really awkward because of it, like he didn't know what he was doing? Face that could break your sister's heart, provided you had a sister who had a heart?"

"I guess so?"

Gwaine drew his sword and turned his back on his friends, facing the door. "Gentlemen," he said, shaking his head. "We're about to be ambushed."


	4. Gwaine 4

No sooner had he said the words did the doors to the chamber burst open, revealing a small band of knights led by that same ginger teen. "Look," said the boy, his accented voice even but carrying. "Let's consider this in a sensible fashion, shall we? You're stuck in here until we move and I've got more men than you. So how about you put back whatever it is you came here to take and I let you go this one time?"

The men of Camelot looked at each other, not expecting that at all. "Uh…" Arthur began. "I'm afraid we can't do that?"

"Pity," said the ginger. "Men?" And the attacking commenced.

Attacking, perhaps, was a bit generous. The ginger may have had more men than Arthur, but only by maybe three. There wasn't much room in the treasure chamber, either, so movement was limited at best. And the ginger himself turned out to be the single worst swordsman any of the knights had ever seen in Camelot or any kingdom, and since they fought with Merlin weekly, that was saying something. He managed by fighting a defensive and rather cowardly fight, parrying a few blows before backing up and letting one of his knights take over. Merlin hung in the back, throwing gold plates and strings of pearls at his would-be attackers, and magically dropping a shelf onto one of them.

Four knights were quickly dispatched, either unconscious or dead, smoothing the numbers toward Camelot's advantage. The struggle spilled out into the hall where there was more room and soon every man except Merlin had their own man to fight. Somehow Arthur ended up against the ginger, and once more things became strange.

Merlin was, as always, carefully watching all his brothers-in-arms from a safe distance, should they need a little enchantment to win. Lancelot and Percival were fighting back-to-back, and Elyan and Gwaine were side-by-side, leaving Arthur and the ginger alone and far out of reach of the others. Not that he needed the help. Gwaine, on the other hand, was watching Arthur's battle with almost too much interest, narrowly avoiding being beheaded by his own opponent on more than one occasion. They fought for another minute or so before footsteps could be heard down one of the adjacent hallways; reinforcements were on their way.

Arthur managed to cut through the ginger's parries, bringing the hilt of his sword down on the man's wrist and sending his sword clattering down the hall. He raised his arm for the killing blow.

Gwaine, still watching nearby, inhaled sharply. "Aw, heck," he said, voice resigned and unbelievably weary. To _everyone's _surprise, the masked Gwaine dodged out of the way of his own attacker, sending the man's blow careening dangerously toward an unprepared Elyan. Elyan blocked, but with clumsy motions that would have resulted in a hit had Merlin not "interfered." Gwaine, meanwhile, had darted toward Arthur. He raised his sword to meet Arthur's, knocking the ginger out of harm's way, and with a flick of his wrist, disarmed his startled prince.

"What are you doing?" Arthur cried as the footsteps drew closer. He pulled back, as Gwaine's surprising move had practically ended the fight. All men, Arthur's and the ginger's, were staring at the two figures in black who had turned against each other.

Before Gwaine could answer another ginger, this one in his mid teens—the third so far! Just how many of them did they have here?—rounded the corner and sprinted toward them, with a full twenty-five knights behind him. "No one move!" he yelled as his men surrounded the small band in black. "You are now under arrest, by order of King Lot ap Gwyar of Orkney. Drop your swords. And…platters," he added, seeing Merlin with a large silver plate in the back.

The Camelot men groaned inwardly, but did as they were commanded. What else could they do? Their hands were forced behind their backs. The new ginger produced a rope from nowhere in particular and bade his men to bind the intruders. Then he turned his deep blue eyes—Merlin and Arthur both felt _sure _they'd seen those eyes on someone else—onto the other ginger. "I see you've managed to blunder your way into a miserable failure again, Garis," he snapped.

Arthur's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He'd been _this close_ to killing Lot's oldest son? Gwaine must have known the boy's identity; his actions suddenly made sense. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful to Gwaine or to curse him for getting in the way. Probably the first, since they'd been captured. He doubted Lot would be inclined to show anyone any measure of mercy if his first born was dead.

Prince Garis scoffed, still looking in disbelief at the black figure that was Gwaine. "I thought there were only four of them, G'reth. How was I supposed to know three more were _sneaking past your men?_"

Prince G'reth turned almost as red as his hair. "It was only luck that you saw them and you know it."

"If you insist. Shall we take them to the dungeons, then?"

G'reth shook his head. "Elaine woke Father and some of the councilmen when you threw the Silent Alarm. We're taking them all before the king. Right now."

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**I have no self control. LAST CHAPTER TODAY, I PROMISE.  
**


	5. Gwaine 5

King Lot ap Gwyar was a middle-aged man, perhaps five years older than Uther, and it was suddenly clear where the boys had gotten their hair from. Like his sons, his vivid hair was cropped short. Unlike his sons, he sported a handsome red beard as well. Prince Garis stood on the king's right with his hands clasped behind his back, allowing his brother to lead the prisoners into the throne room. The younger, darker readhead, who the Camelot knights guessed was Gravain, stood next to the throne, blue eyes wide. The boy must have favored his mother while his brothers took after Lot. Yet he still somehow looked familiar, at least to Arthur and Merlin. Garis seemed familiar, too, now that they really thought about it, particularly the way he carried himself. Garis' posture, Gravain's face, G'reth's eyes…_Where had they seen them before?_

G'reth led the line of bound and masked men into the room. He put them in a long line facing Lot's throne and, with a raised hand, his men pushed the prisoners to their knees.

"I see your troops managed to catch our masked invaders, G'reth," Lot said, speaking, like his sons did, with a far northern burr that sounded out of place as far south as Cenred's old kingdom.

"Yes, Father," said the boy, a smug but rather empty-headed look on his face. "It was easy, what with Garis bungling in and distracting them."

The knights were shocked. In Camelot only one person dared to speak about a prince in such a cavalier and insulting manner—but Merlin would _never_ talk about Arthur like that and _mean _it as G'reth seemed to, nor would he _dare _speak to the king like that. And if _anyone_ spoke out of turn like that in front of prisoners or council members, a few of which were assembled in the chambers now…Arthur had to admit that even _he _would have been in the stocks for the rest of his life. Now Lot was chuckling and nodding in agreement, as if it were natural here.

Garis was smiling, without even a hint of hurt, but there seemed to be something dangerous about him. He shrugged. "Happy to help," he said, humor in his voice and a sharp wit in his eye. "Finding them in the first place, sounding the Silent Alarm, distracting them for capture…I'm just a big bundle of help tonight, aren't I?"

It was clear the elder prince was much more capable with steel in his voice than in his hand. His younger brother looked a bit discomfited, but the king looked unaffected. He rose from his throne and stepped down from the dais. "I have a feeling we already well know whose faces are underneath those silly hoods," he said, looked at each masked face in turn. "Let's have a look anyway, shall we? G'reth, will you do the honors?" G'reth gave a smirk to match one of Morgana's and stepped forward to do as his father commanded.

Leon was first in line. He glared at the king as G'reth pulled the mask away. Jeers began from the soldiers around as the prodded and pushed him, calling insulting things about the Knights of Camelot. Merlin was then de-hooded, sneezing as the silky material brushed over his nose.

"He doesn't look like a knight," called Gravain. The small group of assembled lords murmured in agreement.

"That's because he's Arthur's _servant,_" Lot said, his nose wrinkling. "I've heard all about this bunch. They never go anywhere without him. He's like, some kind of favorite hound or pet or something…"

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it when Leon elbowed him in the side. Quite an impressive maneuver with one's hands tied, really.

G'reth moved down the line, unmasking Elyan, then Arthur. The small crowd _roared_ at its fortune, having caught the great Regent of Camelot. Arthur looked straight ahead, face as still as stone. Merlin was impressed with how stoic all the knights seemed to be. When he tried to don that face, he just looked constipated.

"What will we do with Prince Arthur now that we've got him, anyway?" Lot asked as the jeers grew louder.

"Have him spend the night in the dungeons and send him home tomorrow?" Came Garis' bemused answer.

"Ransom him!" some of the councilmen yelled.

"Kill him now!" That was G'reth, who seemed a little unnecessarily bloodthirsty, to Elyan in particular who didn't like the way this visit to Cenred's castle was looking a lot like the visit he took when Cenred was still in charge.

"Let's bloody him a bit and send him running home to Papa!" called another lord. So far, Arthur was liking Garis' answer best. He found himself warming to the hapless swordsman against his will.

"We'll see," Lot said, gesturing for G'reth to continue.

G'reth removed Lancelot's and Percival's hoods while the group debated with themselves as to Arthur's fate. Now he reached the end of the line—and pulled away the last hood, revealing Gwaine with a huge and rather bitter grin plastered across his face.


	6. Gwaine 6

Every single person in the room gasped and took two steps back. G'reth, the closest, nearly fell over in his rush to get away. He dropped the hoods in his hand. The chamber had gone so silent that the cloth could be _heard_ hitting the stone floor. Lot's face went four shades whiter. The other knights of Camelot looked down the line at their companion, confused and a little alarmed at this turn of events.

Then Prince Garis started laughing. It was a pleasant sound to fit a pleasant face, a full-bellied and delighted laugh of one who has not laughed in a long time and is surprised to find anything humorous anymore. He was soon wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Everyone else just went paler, but the laughter seemed to bring Lot to his senses. His face went from stark white to blood red with fury as he stepped forward and pointed his finger at the prisoner at the end of the line.

"YOU!" he screamed.

"Me!" Gwaine said, voice mild, smile growing.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" The king took several more steps before he stopped. "YOU SAID YOU WOULD NEVER RETURN TO THIS PLACE!" When Gwaine had said he "didn't get on" with King Lot, he had apparently _meant _it.

"Well," Gwaine drawled, shaking his head a bit. "Not really _this place_, wouldn't you say? I told you that in your court up at Orkney, not down here in Cenred's old castle. Love what you've done with the place, by the way. So much less…'evil deeds with evil hands' and much more…'random acts of barbarism.' It's all very you."

Lot howled in fury and started to lunge toward the knight, but stopped once more. It was almost as if the king were unwilling to get close to him. Gwaine ignored the outburst, looking more bored than anything, and peered behind the king. "Long time no see, Gary!" he called to the laughing prince.

The prince was smiling almost as wide as Gwaine was. "Too long," he said, walking forward to stand even with his father. "Seven years without a word from you, Gwin."

"Has it been that already?" He looked at the prince with an open fondness the rest of the knights had only ever seen him give Merlin when he was very, very, _very _drunk. "You're no better with the sword, I saw."

Garis scoffed, stepping past the king. "If anything I'm worse."

"Naw, 's'not possible. Nice ambush, by the way. Good to see you keeping up with the Silent Alarm."

"Thanks. Works better than a warning bell."

"Provided your contacts are in the right place."

"True."

The rest of the men of Camelot stared between the three in deep confusion. "Are you keeping up with this at all?" Arthur whispered to Lancelot on his left.

Lancelot gave a shrug, or at least, as good a shrug as one can give when one is on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. "Gwaine knows Prince Garis really well?"

"Maybe we ought to get rid of Camelot's warning bell," Elyan whispered to Arthur from the other side. "I mean, had these people had one, we would have had time to escape..."

The prince was drawing closer to the line of prisoners. Now Lot grabbed his son's shoulder and pulled him back. "Keep away from him, Garis. He is our prisoner."

Garis pulled out of his father's grip. "And what are you going to do with him? Lock him up? Kill him?"

"I should!" Lot said, rising in volume once more. "GUARDS! TAKE HIM AWAY! CUT OFF HIS HEAD! KILL HIM! LOCK HIM IN A CELL!"

"Before or after he's dead?" Garis asked, crossing his arms. None of the guards moved a single muscle. It was as if they were afraid to even look at him, much less touch him. "Let it alone, Father."

"HE BETRAYED ME!"

"Oh, come ON!" Gwaine yelled, rolling his eyes. He was getting agitated, and _his__ Southern_ accent was slipping. A _burr_ appeared, much lighter than the other courtiers', but there nonetheless. "The long hair, the facetiousness, the shenanigans…you call that betrayal? I _rebelled, _I didn't _betray. _At the very _most_ all I did was tinker with your laws. It's not like you ever bothered to actually read them after you had them drawn up. If you're going to use me as a glorified scribe and then not review _all_ of my work, you deserve anything I may or may not have changed! I mean, this is _me _we're talking about!"

"SHUT UP! IT WAS TREASON!"

"It's not treason to defend my people when their king is a ham-fisted cabbage-brained lovestruck idiotic lack-witted leather-skulled knob-headed BOOBERKIN!"

Merlin's eyes slowly grew larger than dinner plates as the stream of insults continued, and his smile was predatory. Arthur glanced at his manservant, then closed his eyes and groaned, knowing very well he was going to be called one if not all of those things before the end of the week.

Something about that sentence bothered Leon, though, and it wasn't the nonsense words.

* * *

**Insult cookies to my Squire's Tales readers...also, can you tell I REALLY have issues with Camelot's warning bells? I mean COME ON.**


	7. Gwaine 7

The rest of Lot's court held very still, as if trying to melt into the walls. The youngest prince tried to hold back a chuckle and failed. Prince Garis was beaming.

"How DARE you speak to me like that!" Lot yelled.

"Sure, because you did so much to me last time," Gwaine muttered under his breath.

Garis at last knelt at Gwaine's side, drew a dagger—the other knights caught their breath a moment—and cut the knight's hands loose.

"Garis—"

"_Please,_ Father," Garis said. It sounded less like a plea and more like a rebuke. He pulled Gwaine to his feet and looked him in the eye. "I thought you were dead," he said. His tone was even, but the humor from before was gone and there was an old pain in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Gwaine replied, sounding sincere.

"_He_ told me you were dead." Garis jerked his head in the general direction of King Lot.

"Yeah, he would."

Garis then did something none of the other Round Table Knights (and Merlin) were expecting—he pulled Gwaine into a bone-crushing embrace. Gwaine hugged him back, squeezing his eyes shut, looking for all the world as though he'd just come home. There was an intense and quiet joy on Garis' face as well. Leon had seen it on the faces of his fellow knights when, charred and confused, he staggered back into Camelot the day after the death of the Great Dragon. Lancelot had seen it on Merlin as Arthur knighted the Round Table. The two were the only ones who recognized it. Leon redoubled his efforts at trying to find the connection to Gwaine and the royal family and Lancelot began paying attention to the bunch for the first time.

Lot spluttered his outrage, turning first purple, then green, then red again.

"GUARDS!" Lot shrieked, voice high in his fury, then cleared his throat. "Guards!" Much deeper that time. "Take ALL the Camelot intruders, flog them, and toss them in the dungeons!"

As though glad to be of use, the guards stepped forward and eagerly grabbed the other Camelot knights plus Merlin and began dragging them away, staying far away from Gwaine. Gwaine pulled away from the Northern prince, his face somber. "Hold on, hold on! If I agree to stay here and play nice, will you let them go?"

"Gwaine, don't!" Merlin cried out before anyone else could react. Leon elbowed him again.

King Lot paused, looking from Arthur to Gwaine as if that prospect tempted him. "You mean it?"

Gwaine shrugged. "Sure. Just let me see them safe to the border and I'll come back. You can order me around to your widdle ole heart's content and I'll actually listen this time. Even carry them out. Promise."

"Gwaine," Percival hissed. The others exchanged glances, not liking this plan at all.

Lot's eyes narrowed. "Let you see them to the border? Do you think I'm that stupid? You'll just leave with them."

"And if I let you handle it they'll be dead in an hour," Gwaine snapped. "I trusted you once and I will _never_ make that mistake again!"

"I don't care what you think of me or my methods. You're not going with them. Guards, take..._him_ to the dungeon."

"Don't you dare," Gwaine said to the remaining guards as they (very, very hesitantly) moved toward the lone free knight. "And release the others, while you're at it."

To the Camelot men's _amazement, _the guards did as they were told. Lot changed colors again. "Don't listen to him! I SAID TAKE THEM AWAY!"

"You're _not_ going to kill them!"

"You're not going _with _them!"

Garis coughed. "I volunteer to sit in the dungeons until Gwaine gets back, Father. He'd never leave if he knew I would suffer for it. And if you still don't trust him, you could send G'reth and his troops along. Gravain could go, too. It would be good experience for him."

Gwaine grinned again. "See, Gary, that's why you're my favorite."

"Hey!" yelled G'reth and Gravain at the same time.

"Well I don't see either of you two leaping at the chance to risk imprisonment for me, do I?"

Leon, who had been looking from Gwaine to Lot for the last five minutes, suddenly jumped as if he'd been stung by a bee, his eyes wide with shock. "Oh, sweet Camelot!" He yelped as the realization struck. (Arthur wasn't sure he liked hearing his country used as an expletive, though he thought it might grow on him.) "You're his SON! You're LOT'S SON!"

"Took you long enough," Gwaine muttered under his breath.


	8. Gwaine 8

Merlin burst out laughing, but trailed off awkwardly when he realized no one else found the idea funny.

Lancelot frowned and looked between Gwaine and the king. Then he too jumped. "Oh my…"

"What?" said Arthur. "Gwaine can't be Lot's son. No. Gwaine's a peasant. He said so himself."

Gwaine looked at him as if he were stupid. "I lied."

Arthur's eyebrows flew into his hairline. "Gwaine?" he said, using his very best incredulous do-you-honestly-expect-me-to-believe-that-thing-you-just-said voice. "A..._prince?" _

"Take a look at the eyes and jawline, Arthur. He has Lot's face. And his build; it's almost the same as Prince Garis," Leon called, still looking over the complete royal family.

"...I can see the resemblance..." said Percival. "It's kind of hard to pick out at first...I think it's the hair..."

"But he's...really a _prince?" _Arthur asked, squinting between the men.

"_Crown_ Prince Gwaine ap Gwyar of Orkney, to be exact," said his little brother Garis said. "Missing since he ran away seven years ago after a falling out with Father."

"Yes, and why didn't you come with me?" Gwaine asked, glaring a little.

Garis shrugged and nodded toward G'reth and Gravain. "Between Father and Mother, _somebody_ had to try to save those two, didn't they?"

"My head hurts," Elyan said, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. "And my wrists. Can we be untied now, please?"

"NO," Lot shouted, angry that he had lost all semblance of the control of the court.

Merlin looked horrified and a little betrayed. "But...but...you told me your father was a knight!"

Gwaine shrugged this time. "And he was a knight. A peasant knight. Back before there was officially an Orkney. He had some land up north, but not enough to warrant him a title. Then he got Mother pregnant with me and had to marry her. She was a princess, so he became a king. Except her family didn't want to have much to do with them, so they gave Mother her inheritance and turned his little patch into a kingdom. Such as it is. Mother had Gary here and those two brats and we thought that would be the end of it. Then Mother had that fifth boy who looked _nothing_ like Father and ran off with a druid man who probably had a better claim to _that_ particular title, by the looks of things. Never did figure out what happened to any of them. Father has no claims of royalty himself, you see, and that's why he can't disown, dismember, disinherit or destroy any of us, no matter how badly he wants to."

Merlin wasn't swayed. "You said your father was killed in a king's service! You said you barely knew him!"

"Oh, that. I lied. Again. That all happened to a close friend of mine. Father had him killed when he tried to seek compensation during a hard time, and that's when I decided to leave."

Percival was the one to finally ask the question on everyone's minds. "So...did you get your dark hair from your mother?"

Gwaine gave him a cheeky grin. "She _did_ have black hair, but naw, I was born ginger like the rest of them. I paid a sorcerer to turn it black to annoy Father."

Now _Arthur_ started turning colors. "You hired a _sorcerer?_"

"Just because _Camelot_ doesn't like magic doesn't mean the rest of the world feels the same way, Princess."

"Wait, your mother ran off with a druid?" Merlin asked, looking at Gravain of the confusing face and G'reth of the brilliant blue eyes again. Something about them reminded him of…

"Gwaine, why didn't you tell us?" Leon asked. "You could have been knighted months and months ago!"

"You know, I believe that thing that I said about nobility coming from within," Gwaine said. "And does it really matter? Besides, I figured it might be a bit awkward, what with Mother being a sorceress—"

"What?" Arthur cried.

"—and Arthur's mother's sister…"

"WHAT?" yelled everyone from Camelot, although no one yelled it louder than Arthur. His sheer volume could have given Lot's bellowing a run for its money.

Gwaine stuck his finger in his ear and wriggled it as though deafened. "Look, Princess. Your mother's name was Ygraine of Cornwall?"

"…Yes…"

"And she had a brother called Agravaine and a sister called Anna that no one's heard from in years?"

"…Yes…"

"That's my mother. Named Gravain over there after Uncle Agravaine…and I'd rather he _not_ know about all this if it's all the same to you…"

"...You're my _cousin?_"

"Yep." Gwaine looked positively gleeful. "And the official leader of the Army of Orkney. So quit harping on me about the drinking before I start a war, coz."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Arthur muttered. He did look a little ill.

"MORDRED!" Merlin yelled in recognition, then glanced at the floor and wished he were invisible as many pairs of confused eyes turned toward him.

"What?" Garis asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Merlin said. "Forget I said anything."

* * *

**Still. NO SELF CONTROL. Unfortunately we're winding down and I still don't have an ending that completely satisfies me.** **Expect the last bit either today (not likely) or next Tuesday (stable internet, laptop within reach).**


	9. Gwaine 9

"Is anyone else finding this whole mess comically ridiculous?" Leon asked, looking around the court at the frozen councilmen, the pale younger princes, and the powerless king with the purple face.

"It's called Wild Politics," Prince Garis said, sounding apologetic. "Only thing that works up North. Much less exhausting than Southern Intrigues, but a little overwhelming at first. You get used to it." Gwaine's attitude even made sense now, too. Wild Northern Politics in Civilized Southern Camelot. "Guards," he continued, looking away. "Cut the prisoners' bonds, if you don't mind."

"Guards, you'll do no such thing—" Lot began.

The whole chamber grew still as Garis whipped around, turning a dangerous cold-steel glare onto his father. He seemed to become larger, too. Or perhaps Lot simply wilted. "You shut up. I'm done playing this game with you. _No more_."

"You can't talk to Father like that!" G'reth shouted.

"You too, G'reth, or it'll be more than just this lot here who knows that you still wet the bed!"

Gwaine laughed outright, and the lords bit their lips to stop from sniggering. G'reth turned as red as his father had been a moment ago and tried to slink back behind the throne with Gravain, who merely watched the whole thing with an innocent face and wide blue eyes.

The guards cut the ropes binding all the Camelot men's wrists. The ex-prisoners stretched their limbs and came back to the center of the chamber, slowly at first, but with a bit more confidence as Garis nodded. "You are all pardoned," said the prince, "by courtesy of returning the lost Crown Prince to us. Er, that is…if the Crown Prince agrees."

"Oh, yes, by all means. Pardon away," Gwaine said, grinning like an idiot. It was Arthur's turn to turn colors as he realized his life was in Gwaine's hands. There would be no living with him now that Arthur knew Gwaine was a prince—and _family_, no less…

"Excellent," Garis said. "Your possessions will all be returned to you. You will each be granted rooms in the castle for the next…two days, I think. That'll give me time to explain circumstances to the rest of the council." _But not long enough to warrant harm from an angry king,_ was the unspoken understanding. "Feel free to enjoy Ornkey's full hospitality."

"Garis—"

"You will be _silent, _Father. It's not like you can do anything to stop me. Gwin's of age. _He's_ supposed to be acting regent with Mother gone, not _you._ Where was I? Two days from now, you will be given fresh horses and an escort to the border if you so desire. If the Crown Prince wishes to leave with you, that is his business."

"Garis?"

"Yes, Gravain?"

"Why did they even come in the first place?"

Garis turned toward his little brother. "They were trying to rob the treasure chambers, but we caught them before they took anything." He shifted back toward the knights and sent a wink toward Merlin that very clearly said he knew there was something in the servant's bag and it had definitely come from the treasure chambers. "Not that it would matter anymore. Gwaine's got a claim to anything in there anyway. Can we get some servants to see our _guests _to their rooms?"

The guards who had captured them to begin with returned their belongings (Merlin hugged his rucksack close—he was _not _letting the Cup out of his sight after all this) and retreated as quickly as they could. The servants that had been snickering quietly in the shadows as they watched the drama unfold appeared from nowhere. They bowed to the newly-made guests and led the way out of the council chambers. The men glanced at one another, then at Gwaine, then at Lot (who looked faint by this time), then at each other again before milling out of the room. Gwaine followed after everyone, leaving Garis to finish undoing whatever damage may have been caused with the king and the few councilmen who were awake.

By mutual, silent consent, however, the rest of the citizens of Camelot left their own rooms after being escorted away and amassed at the door of one Crown Prince Gwaine ap Gwyar. They entered without knocking and found Gwaine rocking on the floor, gasping for air, shaking with tremendous and silent sobs of sheer _mirth. _The six men stared at their fellow knight as he wiped a tear of laughter from his cheek. At last, he stopped and sat up straight, clearing his throat.

"The looks…on your…FACES!" he gasped and started laughing all over again.

"I'm glad you think this is funny, _Sir Gwaine,_ because some of us are _less than amused,_" Arthur said, trying to sound his most regal. To everyone's interest, they could not be hard pressed to say which sounded more threatening; Arthur's most regal angry tone or Garis' casual usurpation of King Lot.

"…Sorry," Gwaine said, trying to take control of himself again. "I'm sorry. It's really not funny. I didn't want anyone to know…but still…if the truth _had _to come out…" And he started laughing all over again.

Leon and Percival sighed, but by this time Elyan and Merlin were fighting to restrain their own (very manly) giggles. It wasn't long before all of the Table had given way to laughter—partly in relief and partly of the whole messy business—except Arthur, who still wasn't thrilled at the thought of being Gwaine's cousin. There was something else that bothered Arthur, too. "Why exactly did we take the time, effort, and risk to _sneak into this castle _when you have a right to _everything in the vault anyway?" _

"It's complicated, but basically I didn't want to see Father again. That plan went well, didn't it?" came the breathless answer.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and glared. Not. Amusing.

* * *

**Two and a half chapters left, and the next one is just a touch on the angsty side as it wraps up some loose ends (I hope). Hope you don't mind.**


	10. Gwaine 10

"What…_exactly_ happened back there, anyway?" Leon asked once they'd all settled down.

"What you witnessed is the thing that has been the source of Orkney's problems ever since Mother left…oh, eleven years ago," Gwaine said, still grinning a little. "The _real_ ruler of the land vanished, leaving behind a heartbroken and slightly imbalanced king with no royal blood, a slew of princes too young to assume the throne, and a princess with some _serious _unresolved Mummy issues. What do you do, exactly, when the person in charge of the kingdom has no real power and the nobles won't follow him? When the rightful _king_ is a fifteen year old boy whose family just tore itself apart? _Especially _after certain princes realize their entire concept of familial love was a complete lie. We've had to keep fighting Father ever since, one way or another." He shrugged and pulled himself off the floor.

"You ran away at nineteen?" Elyan asked, quickly doing the math in his head.

Gwaine shot him a strange, piercing look. "Nineteen is practically of age in Orkney. _Especially_ if you've got parents like mine. You thought _Uther _was bad?"

"Hey," Arthur said, his eyes flashing.

"My apologies, of course. Anyway, you thought _Uther_ was bad? Imagine a greedy, stupid Uther dedicating his _entire life_ to pleasing a woman who's like Morgana and Morgause put together, only worse." He looked down at his hands. "Sounds horrible, I know, and I don't mean to insult Ygraine or the rest of her family, but you don't know my mother. I don't think she ever really even loved us."

"Surely she wasn't that bad," Merlin argued. "Gwaine, she's your _mother." _

"And I'm sure that means something to yours," Gwaine said, eyes half-dead, voice empty. "One of my earliest memories is of my mother slapping two-year-old Garis and turning our nursemaid to dust because Gary had knocked over one of her potions while Nurse's back was turned."

"…Oh…"

"Yeah. After she left, _he _just fell apart. Life got a little harder, but everything seemed…_clear, _for once. G'reth and Gravain still love our parents, I think, but it's a bit harder for me and hardest for Gary. 'Course, Gary always was the crazy perceptive one."

"You two seem close," Lancelot said.

Gwaine's voice softened. "We raised each other. He's older than he looks. Nearly fourteen when I left, so he must be of age now. When I…when I realized what exactly being a king entailed and found out what kind of man my father was, I asked Garis to come with me. Like he said back in the throne room, though. He had to save the little ones. So far, I don't think it's working…"

"And you were just going to keep lying to us," Leon said. "Keep pretending like you were nothing more than…than some drunken ex-mercenary?"

Merlin fiddled with the strap on his sack. "He told me he was nobility, but he didn't say anything about royalty."

"I told you there was one thing I had learned from my father's life," Gwaine said. "You don't _inherit _nobility, and titles don't mean anything. Besides. What difference would it have made in Camelot? I swore allegiance to Arthur, and I'm going to stand by it."

"What happens when your father dies and you become king? Where will your allegiance lie then?" Arthur asked, his face hard and solemn.

Gwaine chuckled. "I've already got the papers drawn up, in my room in Camelot. When Father dies, I'm giving all of Orkney to the Pendragon family, provided a certain Prince Regent wants to take it. I don't want to be king any more than I'm sure _you_ want me to be king. Just do me a favor and give Garis a dukedom or make him a council member or something. Boy's a hopeless knight, but he can rule anything with one hand tied behind his back. You saw him."

"But could he swear fealty to Camelot?" Leon asked.

"If I asked him to. He'd do anything if I asked him to."

That was both a relief and a blessing, and Arthur (and Merlin) suddenly felt as if a weight had been removed from his shoulders.

Elyan, however, frowned. "But…why don't you just give everything to Garis if he's so great?"

Gwaine grinned. "He asked me not to. Said he couldn't take the pressure, or the power."

"He seemed to be doing all right to me," said Percival with a small chuckle.

"Yeah, but you can only take so much posturing and power struggle before you get very, very tired. This way's best, you'll see. As to G'reth and Gravain…well…we'll just have to see. Now can you get out of my room before I call in the guards and have you all hauled off to the dungeons?"

The knights talked a bit longer despite the threat, but eventually they all shuffled back toward their own rooms. Lancelot, Arthur and Merlin were the last to leave. Merlin suppressed a yawn as he staggered out the doorway, hugging his rucksack to his chest. Arthur followed and caught Merlin's sleeve. "Merlin," he said in a hushed voice. "I have a question."

"What is it?" Merlin asked, really yawning this time.

"When we were in the throne room, you yelled 'Mordred.' Why?"

His mouth snapped shut. "Nothing. No reason. Why, did you think I meant anything by it? It was nothing, sire, really. I was in shock. Spouting nonsense. You know. Grave mental affliction and all? I'm an idiot, don't listen to me. Honest."

Arthur glared at him for a moment. "You're right on one account. You _are _an idiot."

"Whatever you say, Arthur. Can I go to bed now?"

"…Sure, Merlin. Sure." He vanished into his own room.

Lancelot had watched from the frame of Gwaine's (now closed) door. He walked up to Merlin smiled. "Got the Cup?"

"Yup," Merlin said, grinning in return and holding up the lumpy rucksack.

"Good." The knight leaned forward and caught Merlin by the back of his neckerchief, pulling him closer. He leaned down and in a playful, dangerous whisper, hissed, "This time don't let it out of your sight. Got it?"

Merlin gulped and his smile faded a bit. "Got it. Not going to lose it a second time, not to worry."

"Good." Lancelot moved down the hall to his room. Merlin shook his head and vanished inside his own.


	11. Gwaine 11

**Back to funny. Yes, there is one more sort-of-chapter-but-more-like-an-extended-author's-note. Yes, this chapter is written in future tense. Don't think too hard about it and it won't bother you. **

* * *

Back at Camelot three days later, Merlin would find himself thinking back on an almost idyllic two days under Garis' personal protection; watching Gwaine and Garis catch up, keeping out of sight of Gwaine's psychotic sister and mad father, seeing fifteen-year-old G'reth hold his own in duels against Arthur, comparing Gravain's creepy stares to Mordred's. He would think about how much he would look forward to a diplomatic visit to Orkney. He would be distracted by these new memories when he shook his rucksack out onto his bed, but the distraction would soon change to confusion. He would examine the so-called Cup of Life and realize that, although this was an almost identical magical wooden cup, it was not the prize they set out to search. He would be shocked, disappointed, and confused to the point of frustration because it was _definitely_ the Cup of Life he had grabbed in Orkney's vaults. Then he would flip the cup upside down and find the note pinned to the bottom.

_Dear Merlin,_

_I don't know what that wooden cup was or why you wanted it, but I figured it must be important. I've decided it would be best if it stayed here with me. I've heard disturbing things about Camelot security, and while I trust you, I think that whatever this thing is, it would be safer in my personal vault. Besides, Friend of Camelot that I've become, I need some security while I rule Orkney behind Father's back. For all intents and purposes, you've got my brother and all I've got are headaches. I am not a threat to Camelot—far from it, in fact—but keep me in mind in case anything ever happens and someone decides that Crown Prince Gwaine ap Gwyar might be of more use as some kind of hostage or political prisoner. Your cup is not the only thing I have behind these walls, and I am not above figuring out how to use all of it. I will not be brushed aside._

_ Yours, Garis._

_PS: You're probably angry with me, and I don't blame you, but really, your idea of "guarding" is alarming. Try to figure out exactly when I managed to switch cups out of the bag you never let out of your sight in two days and see where you can improve. _

_PPS: I know magic is forbidden at Camelot, which doesn't strike me as the most intelligent thing, to tell you the truth. What do you do when an evil sorcerer or magical beast attacks? Swords and pride aren't much of a defensive line against the ancient powers of the earth. Personally, I'd rather have a fireball in my back pocket than die some gruesome death. Anyway, I gave you something subtle and useful. A friend gave me this cup—it purifies whatever liquid it touches and does so without being showy, so never worry about poisons or drugs again. You can hide it or keep it or destroy it or give it away or whatever. I don't care. It's yours now. _

_PPPS: No, I'm not going to try to puzzle out and/or use the other cup in any way. What do you think I am, stupid? Relax! _

He would read the note twice, hands trembling the second time, before his eyes would flash gold in annoyance and some pot would go flying against the wall. He would run out of the physician's chambers and race down the hallway, out of the castle, and toward the tavern, shouting "GWAINE! I'M GOING TO MURDER YOUR BROTHER!" as he drew close. All the knights would be assembled there and wonder what all the fuss was about. Merlin would glare at Gwaine and pass the letter to Percival.

Percival would read the note and pass it on without a sound.

Leon would read the note and buy another round.

Elyan would read the note and leave at once.

Lancelot would read the note and hit his head repeatedly against the table, preparing a strongly worded lecture for Merlin later.

Gwaine would read the note and laugh.

Arthur would read it last, sigh heavily, close his eyes, pray for patience, and burn the parchment in the nearest candle flame.

They would not speak of it again.


	12. Reconciliation: Making Gwaine Be Gawain

In the original legends, Sir Gwaine was most commonly known as Sir Gawain, although he also bore the names of Gawen, Gawan, Gavan, Waweyn, Gwalchmei, Gauvan, Walwen, Gavin, and Gawaine. The name was originally derived from (drumroll please) Gwalchmei ap Gwyar.

His father was King Lot (who actually was a king), who governed the islands of Orkney and some land in northern Scotland. He ruled for a long time until he rebelled against Arthur's unification of England and got himself dead. His mother was sometimes unnamed and sometimes called Anna, but usually called Morgause. The Morgause of the legends was the daughter of Ygraine and Gorlois, the king/duke and queen/duchess of Cornwall. The Anna of legends is also a daughter of Ygraine and Gorlois, king/duke and queen/duchess of Cornwall, but is a sister of Morgause rather than taking her place. No matter what her name was, Gawain's mother usually had either four or five sons: Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth, Agravaine, and sometimes Mordred. Mordred was Arthur's son as well, making Arthur both his father and his uncle, but it's okay because Arthur didn't know who Morgause was when it happened, apparently. Sometimes Gawain's mother is a very powerful sorceress, sometimes not.

I reconciled the show with the original legends by changing some family ties around, obviously. Just in case those were not clear in the story, or if you want them spelled out for you: Gwaine became Arthur's cousin rather than nephew and the less-common Anna is Gwaine's mother rather than Morgause (which would have been REALLY awkward and probably not possible). Mordred became Arthur's cousin as well, rather than son-and-nephew (which would have been twice as awkward and nowhere NEAR possible). Also, because the show felt like taking a syllable out of Gawain's name and calling some random dude Agravaine (I mean, _really_, people), I decided to let the other brothers follow suit. Gaheris became Garis, Gareth became G'reth (which is pronounced guh-RETH), and Agravaine became Gravain. The three younger brother's personalities and traits come from a combination of original descriptions (harder to find, because they're mostly unimportant) and from other popular depictions, the most influential of which being Gerald Morris' Squire's Tales. Mostly because Morris works with minor characters _so _very well and because I'm a Squire's Girl who can't resist peppering my prose with references. Failure sauce, I know.

**POSSIBILITIES FOR THE FUTURE**

Gawain famously saved Arthur's life twice: once by agreeing to be beheaded and once by agreeing to get married. Since Gawain is my favorite knight and I love his story, you may see a Marriage of Sir Gwaine reconciliation in the future. Maybe. No promises.

Also, there are lots more knights that have secrets. Thinking of maybe doing some work with Parzifal and Galahad and Leodegrance, although it's been a while. I need to brush up on my Grail Knights and my Lily Maids and my dead kings and my Lost Lands…anyway, if you're interested, let me know some how and I'll see who I can expose next.


	13. Percival 1

**Here goes! Like last time, these will probably come up four today, but no promises for the future. This is my last day of college this semester!  
**

* * *

The first year of the young Round Table's life was a busy one. With the true king of Camelot unresponsive, the Table's prince became Prince Regent and called in aid from his estranged uncle Agrivaine. Less than a month after its creation, it learned that one of their own, the drunkard Sir Gwaine, was in fact Crown Prince Gwaine ap Gwyar of Orkney. This was a fact the Table kept quite to themselves, and it was a good thing, too.

A few months after that particular shock, a band of rabbly vagrants attacked, and at their head was a sorcerer wearing the standard of a white dragon on a black background. Morgana had crafted herself a stamp and was more than willing to use it. It was a clumsy attempt that was quickly dealt with, but still left a month's repair work of damage on the lower town. What followed that was another season of nervousness outside the main city and whispers of Morgana sightings around the kingdom that never turned out to have any real foundation.

The people found something else to worry about come the beginning of fall. King Lot, still incensed about the "insults dealt to his person upon the capture of certain thieves from Camelot in his new castle," finally managed to grow a backbone. He had Prince Garis smuggled out of the city and into a dungeon so remote and disused that not even the Orkney spies knew where he was. Prince G'reth was confined to the castle and grounds and he, being somewhat lackadaisical and very much lost without Garis' leadership, was contented to allow his father to order him about. Then Lot did the unthinkable; he took back his armies and declared war on Camelot.

Or at least, he _technically_ declared war on Camelot. He had forgotten that it was peasant recruits and soldiers rather than knights and guards who did most of the fighting in a war, and he had forgotten that it was to Prince Garis that the peasants and soldiers (and knights and guards, for that matter,) offered their love and loyalties. In reality he would have to spend the next several months threatening, bribing, and cajoling his army to come together and in the meantime sent small raiding parties into Camelot when he had the time. Inconvenient and very dangerous if you lived on the border between Camelot and Cenred's old kingdoms, but for the most part, ignorable. The threat still existed of course, and the average citizen of Camelot grew to look at anyone from Orkney with a sort of laughable suspicion.

Poor Gwaine, meanwhile, was beside himself with worry. Mostly for the well-being of his favorite brother, but partly for the state of his homelands and Camelot's future province with his father declaring war willy-nilly. He asked Arthur's permission to leave Camelot to search for the lost prince Garis. Arthur gave it in a heartbeat—he couldn't bear to see any of his friends in the state Gwaine had worked himself up into over this, and besides that, he wanted King Lot _OFF. THE. THRONE. NOW. _and Garis couldn't get back to his under-ruling soon enough in his mind. Merlin, still riffed about Garis' switcheroo, snuck a strongly-worded letter into Gwaine's saddlebags before he snuck off, but as much as he wanted to, could not go along.

Why?

Because war with Orkney, no matter how scattered, was not the only foreign problem that had arisen.

Something was going on in the Perilous Lands.

And that, Merlin was certain, was where Garis had hidden the Cup of Life.


	14. Percival 2

"Do we have any idea who it is or what they're doing?" Lancelot asked, leaning against the wall with a frown. They were in Arthur's room this time (Gwen couldn't quit blushing, never mind that she'd been in his room a hundred times before), and Agrivaine was with them in Gwaine's absence. A poor substitute, in most of their opinions, but had Gwaine been there, he wouldn't be good company with his mind halfway across the Northern lands anyway.

"No," Arthur said, voice quiet but carrying as he paced the floor. "But whatever it is, it can't be good."

Gaius raised his head. "The Perilous Lands are the home of the Fisher King, a powerful sorcerer who ruled many hundred years ago. His realm is steeped in magic. With Camelot being so close to its borders, any activity at all is a bad thing."

"And if it's Morgause or Morgana?" Elyan asked.

"If it is Morgause or Morgana, the potential for danger increases a hundred fold," he said with a sigh. "There is more magic in the Perilous Lands than there is in much of the rest of Albion put together. If she were somehow able to harness that power, they would become unstoppable."

_Note to self, _Agrivaine thought.

"So we have no choice but to investigate?" Percival asked, crossing his arms.

"Mhmm," Arthur agreed. "Though I don't like the idea of going in knowing as little as we do."

"If there is very little choice, then I don't see what you're all standing around talking about it for," Agrivaine said. The others glared at him. He was there to be seen, not heard. He sat down at Arthur's desk and began sulking.

"Merlin has a theory as to what could be going on," Gwen piped up.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but because it was Gwen, he couldn't dismiss Merlin's idea without hearing it first. "All right, Merlin, let's hear it."

Merlin bit his lip. "Well, we all know…actually…this may be a…a sensitive topic, but we all…um, that is, all of us except Agrivaine…"

"Agrivaine doesn't know what?" the man in question asked, coming out of his sulk.

The actual Round Table members exchanged glances. Leon shrugged at the silent agreement. "Fine, but don't go spreading it around. We don't actually have the Cup of Life in Camelot's vaults like we said we did. Prince Garis has it. Or he had it. We had been in correspondence with him until his kidnapping—"

"If his own father did it, I don't see how it can be kidnapping," Gwen butted in.

"It's Lot," Percival grunted.

"He's right, Sis. You don't know Lot. It was definitely a kidnapping."

"—Anyway, we are aware that it was in Cenred's old vaults until we tried to steal it back, and then Prince Garis put it in his personal stores. But then Lot started getting antsy and Garis gave it to his friend of his—"

"A sorcerer," Arthur said, eyes flashing. "And I _still _don't see how I can forgive Gwaine's family for associating with sorcerers."

Lancelot shook his head. "We already talked about this, Arthur. You have to because anything's better than Lot and it'll all be magic-free Camelot after he dies."

Leon cleared his throat, looking daggers at his interrupters. "_Anyway,_ his sorcerer friend was shuffling around the countryside. So strictly speaking, we don't know where it is."

"Yeah, that," Merlin said. "We all know Garis has the Cup of Life, and we all know he's been moving it around. But what we don't all know is I've been in contact with some friends from Ealdor and surrounding towns who have been running some favors for me. They were able to get me descriptions of Garis' sorcerer friends and I know for a fact that they were last seen headed into the Perilous Lands."

"That's one idea, anyway," Elyan said. "The best one really, since we don't have anything to fear from Garis."

"There is magic involved, Elyan, we have everything to fear," Arthur snapped.

Elyan pouted. Gwen patted his shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Don't mind. He's just angry because Garis' first letter made a good point."

"There's still every chance that this is _not _Garis' men, or that Garis' men have run into trouble in the Perilous Lands," Lancelot said.

"So we're back to step one," Merlin said, sighing.

"I have a proposition," Leon said. "Take a small group into the land. Reconnaissance only. Let them see what they can find, as subtly as possible, and then return to Camelot with whatever information they could gather. That way the danger is less and we don't march our armies into the Perilous Lands for no reason when we need to focus our manpower toward Cenred's old lands in case Lot manages something."

Soon everyone was nodding their approval. "I suppose it is the best course of action," Arthur said. "I wish Gwaine were here. He knows the Lands."

"So do I," Merlin said, a little affronted.

The Prince Regent snorted. "Yes, _barely. _But I want you here for now, in case your Ealdor contacts get new news."

Lancelot stood up straighter. "I've skulked by way around the border a bit."

Arthur nodded. "All right then. Lancelot, you and Percival and Leon and Elyan will leave as soon as you can."

"Hold on, Arthur," Agrivaine said, standing with a small smirk and clapping his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Why don't you go with them and lead the band? This would show the people that you trust me, and that you don't see Lot as a viable threat. It would help the people warm up to be and ease their fears of war as well."

The others considered this for a few moments. "You do know the land a bit better, Arthur," Lancelot said.

He hesitated, then nodded. "All right. But I want Leon to stay with you, Agrivaine. As my most senior knight, the people trust him more than they trust you at the moment. Merlin, I guess you'll be coming, too?"

"Hah," said Merlin. "Try and stop me."

* * *

**This bunch may be a tad bit more serious. Actually, they all may be a tad bit more serious, but that's because the people involved are much more morose than Gwaine is. Not to worry, still lots of humor ahead. **


	15. Percival 3

And so the five brave knights trekked their way across Camelot and into the forest that led into the Perilous Lands. There were many ways _into _the Perilous Lands, but Arthur and Merlin were following the path that they had taken just a year before. For some reason it just didn't seem _right_ to go around the most straightforward path into the country just because they were unnerved by a dwarf at a rope bridge.

Actually, if he were telling the truth (and he always did), Arthur had to admit he rather liked the dwarf. It was Merlin who had the problem.

"Can't we find a way around the bridge?" he asked Arthur as they drew closer to the edge of the forest.

"What bridge?" asked Percival, having never been around these parts.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "There's a bridge into the Perilous Lands, guarded by a dwarf named Grettir. I don't see why you would want to avoid the fastest and easiest route in, Merlin. Or do you have a problem with dwarves?"

"I have no problem with dwarves. I put up with you, don't I?" Arthur's jaw clenched. Merlin had grown over the year and now stood exactly two and one fourteenths of an inch taller than his master. He'd never live it down. Merlin dodged the swipe Arthur threw in his direction and stuck his tongue out.

"All right, children," Elyan grumbled under his breath, glaring at the horse he was leading and twitching. The ex-blacksmith was still getting used to life as a knight and was thus prone to being saddle sore, though he would never admit it.

"Lighten up, Elyan," said Arthur. "Another day and we'll all be _back on our horses again._" He grinned at Elyan's murderous expression and turned back to Merlin. "And no, we're not fighting through the forest to find a way around the bridge."

Merlin chuckled. "What, afraid of a few trees?"

"_Merlin._"

"Wow, I'm on a roll today."

Lancelot, who was closest, elbowed him in the ribs. "Behave," he said, "or will I have to separate you two?"

"Is _that_ the bridge?" Percival asked, pointing ahead.

There was, in fact, a rickety looking bridge about a hundred yards in front of them, but there did not seem to be a dwarf guarding it. "Looks like you won't have to face your dwarf, Merlin," Arthur said, pushing his horse's nose out of his ear.

"One could only be so lucky," the servant muttered. The others laughed (minus Elyan, who was still too busy grumbling and Percival, who really didn't make too much noise at all) and marched on.

As they drew closer, the dwarf in question stepped out from behind a tree—it looked as though he had _melted_ out of the tree bark, but that was silly. He smiled at Arthur as they approached. "Hello, Courage. I did not expect to see you back so soon. Or at all, really."

Arthur shot an amused look at the glowering Merlin. "We heard there was something amiss in your country and thought we'd come to check it out. Er…that's all right, isn't it?"

Grettir shrugged. "I don't see why it wouldn't be. There's nothing I've heard of going on. Nothing of anything going on. The land was sick for centuries, and now it's died with the Fisher King. If there is something happening, you won't need to search long to find it."

"Good to know," said the prince. "Do you know of where we can—"

"Oh, sweet Camelot, can we just cross already?" Elyan snapped (Apparently Leon's expletive was making rounds through all the knights. So far, Arthur still didn't like it.).

The dwarf looked behind Arthur and his grin reappeared. "Ah, no Strength this time around I see, but Daring, and Chivalry and Ma—"

"Yes, we're all from Camelot. Can we pass?" Merlin cut in before he could finish. The dwarf looked quite insulted and Lancelot elbowed him in the ribs again.

"Grant me patience," The guardian of the bridge said, closing his eyes. "Wait, there are five of you, aren't there?" he asked, his eyes snapping open again.

"Er…" Arthur turned and tried a brief count, but with Elyan not completely visible and Percival and Merlin both holding extra horses, it was a little skewed. "Yes, I think so."

Then Grettir saw Percival and his jaw dropped. "Curiosity," he muttered, lifting his face to the sky. "Courage, Magic, Chivalry, Daring, and Curiosity. We are saved at last." He bowed so low his forehead touched the ground. Then he stepped aside and bowed again. "It is my _honor_ to grant you admittance into the Perilous Lands."

The knights (and Merlin) glanced at each other, then Arthur shrugged, dropped his reigns into the dwarf's waiting hands, and led the way across the bridge. Unlike last time, the dwarf was still there when he turned back around at the end of the bridge.

"Wonder what that was all about," Lancelot said as he crossed, bringing up the rear of the group. "Ah well. Where do we start?"


	16. Percival 4

That question wasn't answered until they arrived at the edge of the woods and looked over the bare, brown, desolate wasteland stretching out before them. It had looked _bad_ when Arthur had been here the first time. Now it looked _terrible._

"Wow," said Elyan, happier now that the horses were far away. "Your dwarf wasn't kidding when he said the land _died._ It even _smells_ like something's dead."

"That would be the mud holes to the east," Arthur said, curling his nose at the memory of falling in said mud hole.

"Gaius said the land was connected to the Fisher King's magic," Merlin told them.

"See? Magic is evil," Arthur said. "And careful. In my experience, this place has a way of sapping your strength."

The others stretched their muscles, minus Merlin, who just shook his head. "I don't feel anything," said Lancelot.

"Neither did Gwaine and me, last time," Merlin said. "Maybe the Fisher King's magic didn't like pratty princes."

"Maybe I ought to toss you into a mud hole."

"Please," said Percival, rolling his eyes. When he spoke, something tightened in Merlin's chest and his toes prickled. He looked down, then blinked and looked around. There was dead, depressing, brown grass under everyone's feet—except Percival's. Percival was standing on nothing but dirt, although how he managed that was beyond Merlin.

"All right, we're here," Lancelot said again, distracting Merlin (and everyone else, really.) "So I repeat. What do we do now?"

Arthur looked around, making faces at the waste land. "Well," he said. "Does anyone see anything suspicious?"

The others copied his movements, peering ahead as far as they could see. "Uh…nope?" Elyan said, dark mood returning. "If this is just a waste of time—"

"Calm down, Elyan," Lancelot said. "Anybody have a favorite direction?"

"I like east," Merlin said.

"Where the mud holes are?" asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow. "This is supposed to be a serious mission, Merlin, but if you keep making stupid suggestions, I _will _take the time to toss you in."

Elyan sighed, eyes glazing over, and rubbed his sore thighs.

"All right, all right," Lancelot said, wondering why it was suddenly his job to keep the peace just because Leon was back at Camelot. "We think the most likely cause of trouble would be either Garis' friends or Morgana taking control over the magic, right?"

"So…if you were Morgana, where would you go to find the source of the magic?" Elyan asked, brows knit together in concentration.

Lancelot stared pointedly at Merlin. "_Or_ if you were guarding a dangerous magical artifact, where would you hide it so it wouldn't be found?"

Merlin blushed and stared at his boots.

Arthur took a deep breath. "Well, we already know where the Dark Tower is, and that is where the Fisher King held court," he said. "The source of the magic is most likely to be there."

"And a castle in the middle of a dangerous wasteland is a good place to hide something," Eylan said. "Although from the looks of this place, you could bury the Cup and it would be safe. So which way to the Dark Tower?"

Percival pointed to a tower in the distance. "East," he said, a wry little smile on his face as the obvious conclusion.

There was that uncomfortable tightness in Merlin's chest again. Maybe he was getting sick. That might explain the tingling in his fingers. Although it would not explain the fact that, when he looked down as they started moving toward the tower, there were tiny, fresh, green spears of grass poking through the dirt where Percival's feet had been.

* * *

**Yep, that's it for today. See you again soon!**


	17. Percival 5

**Okay, who suggested this story for the "Epic Wins" community and didn't tell me? I went looking for an old favorite fic and thought I'd stumbled onto the wrong page! I'm not angry, I'm _ecstatic. _I was _blushing _with pleasure for an hour afterward. You guys are an _awesome _bunch of readers and I love you all. Now, onto the next set!**

* * *

Traveling in the dead lands of the ex-Fisher King's kingdom was the most irritating thing the knights had done. Although it took a surprisingly small amount of time to get someplace, the bare, unchanging landscape made the journey seem triple the length. Boredom was inevitable and unavoidable, and even Arthur found himself missing Gwaine's mindless prattle. Perhaps it would not be so bad if Merlin would talk—heavens knows the young servant babbled enough as it was—but Merlin seemed to be focused on something and hesitant to let his attention wander. Although what he could possibly be paying attention to was beyond Arthur.

Merlin was, in fact, devoting all his attention to Percival's feet. The big knight remained silent for most of the trip, but it did not stop the most extraordinary thing to be happening on the ground. Dead plants _disintegrated _with every step he took, to be replaced with rich, healthy-looking earth. It wasn't just in his footsteps, either, but around them, creating a long, narrow line of fresh soil where Percival had been walking. No one else noticed—they were not looking at the ground, but keeping their eyes forward in order to avoid the infamous mud holes.

"Hey Arthur," Elyan said with a frown. "I thought you said the Perilous Lands sapped your strength?"

"They did, last time I was here."

"Then why do I actually feel stronger now than when we started out?"

The entire company stopped in their tracks and turned to face each other. "…He's right," Lancelot said, looking around the barren waste as if the answer would appear in front of them. "We haven't even had to stop for water since we set foot here."

Arthur's forehead wrinkled in thought. "I don't understand it…"

"Maybe it's because the Fisher King is dead now?" Elyan suggested. "It makes sense that his magic would die with him. If it was the magic wearing you down…"

"But why would we feel _stronger _just because the magic is gone?" Lancelot asked.

"I think we should concentrate on getting to the castle rather than talking nonsense about magic," Merlin said, his gaze still shooting down to Percival's feet.

Percival nodded. "He's right."

The painful tug came again, and the fertile soil beneath Percival's feet erupted into little green shoots before Merlin's very eyes. He looked up to make sure no one else had noticed, but they were watching Arthur.

"Yes," the Prince Regent said, "and there's still the wyverns to watch out for."

Something cried out in the distance, just as he said it. The knights tensed. "Keep moving," Arthur ordered, leading the way. They all began moving again, except for Merlin, who paused to watch the grass sprout all down the line of Percival's footsteps.


	18. Percival 6

The mud holes were particularly enjoyable and confusing for Merlin to watch. Most of them had dried up in the intense sun, but the remaining few were as odorous and oozy as he remembered. Merlin brought up the rear of the line, watching as tiny tendrils of water stretched across the cracks in the dry ground with every step Percival took, racing to dampen the dirt as quickly as they could before the sun evaporated them. Lancelot tripped once and landed face down in one of the more shallow wet pits, and when he stood again, covered in mud, the men laughed at him. At Percival's deep-throated chuckle, the little streams of water became small waterspouts from somewhere deep beneath the earth. "All right, that's just _weird," _he muttered.

"What was that, Merlin?" Elyan asked, turning back.

Merlin didn't get a chance to answer. Another cry shattered the silence and a wyvern flew over their heads, swooping down low enough that the men could feel the wind ruffling their hair, before landing in front of them. Another joined it, spreading its wings and gnashing its teeth.

Arthur drew his sword and the rest of the knights followed his lead. Merlin hung out at the back, feeling a bit frantic. No magicking his way out of this one—no branches to drop, no way to cover the sound of dragon speech. He _could _revitalize the dried mud pit beneath the wyverns, but that would be a little _too _convenient, especially as the fully armored knights and Merlin with his heavy magic all standing in one pit weighed about the same as a wyvern and _they _hadn't sunk yet.

"Ready men," Arthur said, lifting his sword above his head as the wyverns crept closer.

"Before more come would be nice," Merlin shouted, seeing the dark shapes on the horizon.

Arthur spared one glare at his manservant before yelling a battle cry and running toward the beasts. The other knights let lose cries of their own—

—and the wyverns jerked their heads as if something had burned them, screaming in what was obviously pain. They writhed before the stunned knights for a moment before looking toward the men (Merlin thought they were looking at him, but with all the strange things going on it was probably Percival) and flying off, away from the knights and the castle. The distant dark shape disappeared as well.

"…Huh," said Arthur. "That's never happened before."

"You're telling me," Lancelot muttered, sheathing his sword and looking at Merlin. Merlin shrugged. For once, he didn't think the bizarre turn of events was his fault.

Things only got stranger as the company arrived at the Dark Tower.

The stepped inside the crumbling castle and Percival and Merlin both took deep breaths.

"What's that smell?" Percival asked, turning to his companions. The black stone walls suddenly took on a greyish hue.

"What smell?" Arthur asked. "I don't smell anything."

Elyan shrugged and Lancelot shook his head. "I could have _sworn _I smelled something," Percival said again. The walls grew lighter still. "Merlin?"

Merlin did smell something, and it smelled an awful lot like Gaius' chambers after he'd been using "happy magic"—small, silly things done without having to say spells, performed to finish a chore, cheer Gaius up, or just celebrate being able to use magic in private. Strong and fresh and sweet, with a hint of something rotten behind it—in the case of Gaius' chambers, it was usually the leech tank needing cleaned. But Merlin was not about to implicate either himself or Percival in the goings-on in this insane country. He jerked his head in a way that suggested he didn't smell anything without actually lying. Believe it or not, he tried to avoid that when he could.

"Maybe you're just imaging things," Lancelot said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"No, there _is _something there," Percival insisted, and the walls grew brighter. Behind him, under the timbre of the big knight's voice, Merlin could hear a crumbling stone put itself back together. "It's nice, I think…mostly, anyway…like rain. But it didn't start raining. Did it?"

A chorus of head-shakings met that question. "Hey, is it just me, or is it lighter in here?" Eylan asked, looking around.

The knights froze once again. "…The walls were black when we walked in," Arthur said slowly. "…Weren't they?"

"Yes," Lancelot answered. "But…they're _white _now…"

"…Maybe the magic isn't dead after all," Elyan said.

"We need to get to the treasure chambers," Merlin interrupted. _Don't call attention to Percival, _he told himself. Whatever was happening, it was clear the big man didn't notice it himself. No need to make it more obvious than it already was.


	19. Percival 7

Or maybe it was too late for that. "It's this way," Percival said, heading down a left-hand fork.

"No it's not," Arthur said. "_All _castle treasure chambers are on the east wing. It's been that way since before my father's time."

"It's not that way in this castle," Percival argued. Which was strange, because Percival generally didn't argue, as a rule. "It's this way."

"Have you ever been here before?" Arthur asked, anger flickering across his face.

"No, but—"

"We go this way." And he led the way to the treasure chambers.

They were _not _in the east wing, or, indeed, anywhere on the east side of the ruins. They wasted an hour and a half searching every dilapidated room on that side before a frustrated Arthur gave up and headed back to the entrance.

"I don't understand it," he said.

"The castle is very old," Lancelot said. "Things were probably different back when it was built."

"But I've _seen _plans for castles like this."

"It's still this way," Percival said, heading down the left hand fork.

Elyan started to open the door of the first room they came to, but Percival cut him off. "Don't bother. It's a dining chamber."

"How do you know?" Elyan asked, peeking inside. It was a large chamber with the moth-eaten remnants of what was once a huge tapestry and a cobweb-covered plank of wood that was once a table. "…Huh. How _did _you know?"

Percival paused. "…I don't know. I just did."

Merlin swallowed. "Percival? Where's the vaults?"

"Down this hallway, hang a right, third door on the right. It's the only double door in that hall, so you can't miss it." He froze, going white. "I didn't know that. I don't think. But I did."

All the knights turned toward Percival, staring. Lancelot glanced at Merlin. "I'll…uh…go check it out." He jogged down the hall and out of sight.

"_Have _you ever been here before, Percival?" Arthur asked, a curious light in his eyes."

"Never in my life."

"Then where's the throne room?"

"Straight ahead, up the stairs, on the left. There's a pressure plate in front of the door. It'll make a stone wall drop if you don't step over it." Percival swallowed. "I don't know how I know that, I swear."

"Something fishy is going on," Elyan said. "The walls _were _black before…"

"I don't know what it is. I don't know. I'm not doing it."

Merlin wasn't so sure. Percival had been speaking a lot lately, and it was getting harder and harder for the warlock to breathe. He recognized it now—every time Percival spoke, his magic was flying out to meet the words. Tiny, little bits of magic, and certainly not enough to restore the land or the castle like it was doing, but enough to wake up whatever magic was left dormant in the land. It was Merlin's magic, but Percival was serving as a trigger. He had no idea why, but from the look in Arthur's eyes, they wouldn't be leaving the tower until they found out.

Lancelot appeared at the front of the hallway again. He caught up to them, face grim, clutching a bloodied cloak in his hands. "Garis' men were here, all right," he said. "They ran into slavers. That was what was going on. The slavers are in the vaults, dead, all of them. Maybe not the whole company, but enough of them. Garis' company lost two or three, but they got the Cup out. It isn't here."

Merlin closed his eyes and Elyan groaned. Arthur looked from Lancelot to Percival, a calculating look in his eye. He didn't seem…_angry, _or at least, not very angry. He _did _seem concerned for Percival, who all the knights now considered a friend, and who appeared to be frightened by the knowing of the castle plans.

"All right," Arthur finally said, putting one hand on Percival's shoulder and one hand on Lancelot's. "All right. We're going to the throne room."

"Why?" Lancelot asked.

"To find some answers. _Percival, _lead us there."


	20. Percival 8

And so, Percival did. He looked calm, if, perhaps, a bit humbled. Merlin looked closer, however, and saw the poor man's hands were trembling. Just a bit, but it was enough for the warlock's heart to go out to him. He didn't understand any better than anyone else what was going on. At least Arthur wasn't treating him like a criminal. Yet.

Percival paused before the doorway of the room. "The pressure plate is there," he said softly, pointing to it. "Make sure you step over it, or we'll all be stuck inside."

"Not something I want to relive," Merlin muttered, and Arthur nodded. Percival went in first, followed by Elyan, then Lancelot, then Merlin, and Arthur at the rear.

The room looked about the same as it had last time Merlin and Arthur were here, except with more cobwebs and dust. It was brighter than last time, too, thanks to Percival, apparently. The stone walls were practically glowing with life. The company made a half-circle in front of the throne, looking at each other. It was all a little awkward, really.

"Uh, why did we have to come here, exactly?" Elyan asked.

"This is where the king died," Arthur said, pointing at the throne. "He was the source of the magic. This is where it will be strongest. If anything is going to happen, it's going to happen here."

Lancelot looked at the throne, then at Merlin, then at poor Percival. "What's going to happen?"

Arthur turned to the big knight. "Percival, tell us what's going to happen."

"I don't know, Sire," he answered. And sniffed. "The smell is stronger here."

"It would be," the prince said. "I expect that's magic you're smelling."

"I don't have magic."

"I know. And you showed absolutely no sign of it until now. So, the question stands. What's going on, Percival?"

Percival sighed, growing anxious and frustrated. "I don't _know!_"

"You should ask," Merlin said suddenly, wishing the words back into his mouth as soon as he said them. All eyes turned on him. "I…I noticed grass growing when he spoke on the trail, and the walls got brighter when he was talking. The castle is responding to his voice. If he wants to know the answer, _he _should ask the question."

Percival swallowed, looking at the throne. Feeling quite sheepish, he cleared his throat. He stepped forward. His mouth opened and closed once, twice. He closed his eyes. When he next spoke his voice was strong and quiet, but not so quiet that it didn't reverberate around the room. "What's _happening_ to me?"

The throne split down the middle with a loud _crack. _Splinters of wood and centuries of dust flew everywhere. The company coughed and hacked, shielding their faces. When the air settled, a ghostly specter was standing (floating? Specting?) in front of the broken throne.

_The Fisher King. _

He smiled at each man in turn, but it was Percival he held out his hand to. "My dear child," he said, his voice just as strong and sure as Percival's had been a moment ago. "I've been waiting for you a long, long time."

The men stared, jaws loose and hanging. The ghost threw back his head and laughed. The sound made Merlin grin in spite of himself. Death had clearly been good for him, as strange as that sounded.

Arthur came to himself first and—what else?—drew his sword. "Why have you come," he declared in his most noble voice. "What do you want with Percival?"

"_Percival, _is that his name?" he said with another smile. "I've come because I was called, by the question of the seeking mind and the family blood. _Percival, _you say?" He looked back at Percival. "You are my flesh and blood, Percival. By rights the land is yours, and the land has been waiting for a fresh, new king for centuries. You are my heir, and I have come to claim you as such. What do you say?"

Percival stared. He looked around the room, meeting each one of his friends' eyes, noting the sword in Arthur's hand especially, and turned back to the king. "I say…what on _earth _are you talking about?"

* * *

**That's all for today. Tune in next time, when you'll hear Percival say...anything at all! (Seriously, would it kill the writers to give him some _lines _in season five?)  
**


	21. Percival 9

**Last run for Percival. Enjoy!**

* * *

The ghost of the Fisher King laughed, shaking his transparent head. "I _knew _I'd have a lot of explaining to do, what with Camelot being right next door and everything. Yes, I know about the magic ban. I know about everything. Listen, child; I was old when I died, older than a good many castles and hills and any other thing you'd care to name. I had children, centuries ago. I outlived my wife and my children, and my grandchildren, and probably my great grandchildren as well. I don't know how many generations are between you and I, nor do I know from which of my children you are descended. But you are. You _have _to be, or your voice wouldn't call forth such things."

Percival glanced at the others, tense. "What do you mean, my voice calls things? I don't have magic."

"No, you don't," said the dead king, his eyes sharp and kind at once. "And neither did any of my children, come to think of it. Not that it matters. The land recognized you, and I have named you as my heir in kind. All the powers that entails are available to you now."

"You're not answering the question," Elyan growled, drawing his sword as well. Merlin almost laughed—he had no idea what Elyan and Arthur were going to do, pointing weapons at a dead man, but it seemed to make them feel better. At least Lancelot had the sense to keep his hands at his sides. "What do you mean when you say these things? What powers does your heir get? What's happened to Percival?"

The king sighed and turned around. A ghosty-looking throne appeared above the broken one, and the king sat down in it. Except for looking much younger and healthier, (and, well, _dead_) he now looked very much like he had the first (and last) time Merlin saw him. "I am not the first king of these lands, and I will not be the last," he said, "but I am the first who fully understood the power of the lands and took advantage of that power. I don't know who or what made the land the way it is, or why, and I won't question it. All I know is the power has been passed down through my bloodline since the beginnings of recorded history. The word _king _is inaccurate, and you're not a prince because this land has no princes. No true government, either. It's always been able to take care of itself. _Master _might be the better word, although the land itself prefers _heir…_"

"You're not making any sense, sir," Merlin said, noting the shake in Percival's hands again and wishing these ancients-types could make a point without going all the way around and sounding cryptic about the whole thing. "We understand that the country is slowly recovering, and we understand that it has something to do with Percival, and we understand it happens because Percival is your heir, but we don't understand how."

"Exactly," Lancelot said. "Percival doesn't have magic. Is he using yours?"

"Mine?" the king scoffed. "I could barely scramble eggs with magic in life. How good do you expect me to be in death?"

Arthur looked even more confused now. "But…you were a _brilliant _sorcerer. Your magic sustained the land, and corrupted it, and it died with your magic…"

The king laughed again. "Oh, no, young Prince Arthur. You've got it backwards. It's the _land _that's magic, not me." He ignored the five shocked faces around him and continued. "It's in the underground rivers. It gets into the soil, into the air. It stops at the borders, miraculously, but this place, this beautiful, amazing country…it _is _magic, made by magic. My predecessors never truly understood that, but I did. I asked it to keep me alive, so it did." He looked at the horrified Percival in front of him. "The heir, the king, is the conduit for the magic, what gives it direction. It is the land that is tied to the king, not the other way around. I grew old and weak, and the country grew old and weak with me."

"And when you died, so did the land," Lancelot said, comprehension dawning at last.

"But…that would mean…" Arthur's eyebrows were furrowed almost beyond recognition. "…If it's the _land _that's magic…your magic didn't corrupt it? And…maybe…it didn't corrupt you?"

The king raised an eyebrow and glanced at Merlin, who shrugged. "That's a big admission for him," the warlock said. "Give him time to catch up."


	22. Percival 10

"I don't have magic," Percival said, quiet and determined.

"No, you don't," the king said again with a sigh. "It might be more accurate to say that you are loved by magic. And I'm surprised you're not used to that, what with the company you keep. I mean, look at your companions here. It hangs around the shoulders of all except Sir Elyan, but it's worse around Prince Arthur and Merlin, there. Probably because they're together so much."

Arthur whipped around, pointing his sword at random points of darkness as if looking for magic to slice. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"What does that mean? For me?" Percival asked.

The king shrugged. "Whatever you want it to mean. You are the heir and master of this land. It has already recognized you. Once you wake it up—and you're off to a good start there, already—you'll become a conduit for its magic. It will filter through you, and it will rely on you to give it direction. You'll be as magic as any other sorcerer you'll run across—and _more_, in some cases—but only while you're in the country itself. If you go back to Camelot, for instance, you'll be just as humdrum as the rest of the knights. Nothing extra effects or anything."

The young knight brightened quite a bit at that. "You mean…the land won't…hold me prisoner in the castle, or anything?"

The king shook his head. "No, as I said, it loves you. It'll do as you ask. You can go anywhere you like, do anything you want, as long as you don't abuse the power."

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "The land won't let the heir abuse its power?"

"Nope," said the king. "It has a tendency to kill heirs that try to do that. The land would rather die than serve an heir that doesn't respect life."

Percival drew in his own deep, shuddering breath, then sighed in relief. He turned his back on the king, looking at the others, particularly Arthur, who still had his eyes closed. "Arthur…" He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Hmm," Arthur said, opening his eyes. "It's all right. No one would expect you to know something like this."

"What are we going to do?" Elyan asked, glancing between Percival and the Fisher King. "I mean, really, what do we do now? Can we go home? With Percival, I mean."

"Of course we're bringing Percival with us," Merlin said, looking a little affronted. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Magic forbidden, remember?" Elyan said. "That's what got my father killed."

"But in Camelot he won't have magic," Lancelot said. "Or do you want Percival to stay?"

"Of course not. I want Percival home just as much as you do. But it's Arthur's decision."

"Arthur, we're bringing Percival back with us, right?" Merlin said. "Arthur? _Arthur?_"

Arthur shook his head and looked at Merlin. "What?" he asked. "I'm sorry. I wasn't really paying attention…"

Merlin groaned. "We're bringing Percival back, right?"

He glanced at Percival with a frown. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "Strictly speaking, we shouldn't. If word got out…anyway, we shouldn't stack royalty together in the same company like that. I'm uncomfortable as it is with keeping Gwaine so close…"

"Gwaine…Gwaine!" Percival whirled onto the Fisher King. "Sir, can I give it away?"

"The land? Yes. The power? No. It's still only passed through your bloodline, but you can give it to someone else and call yourself an heir and steward rather than an heir and king."

"Good." He turned back and closed his eyes. For a moment, Merlin felt like he'd been punched in the gut as a strong wave of magic shot out of him, and he had trouble standing straight and pretending nothing had happened. Then Percival took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

And they were golden.

"I am Percival," he shouted, his voice filling the halls of the castle and ringing with a depth that made the other four Camelot men's bones shake. "I am a descendent of the Fisher King Anfortas, heir to the Perilous Lands which was once and now again called Munsalvaesche."

"How did he know that?" Lancelot muttered to Merlin, staring in awe at Percival.

"I think that magic told him," Merlin muttered back out of the side of his mouth, not daring to look away.

Percival continued as if he hadn't heard. "I step forward now to claim this land as my own, as its heir and master. See me now, and wake."

There was a great grinding noise and the castle shook. It was _repairing _itself. If the company could have glanced out the window they would have seen centuries of dirt and decay reverse itself. Grass erupted from the dust and full grown trees sprang up. A river, wide and fast, cut through the muck and a lake formed where the mud holes had been.

"…Talk about saving time and resources on repair work," Elyan said softly, looking at the walls and the way they shone now. "Be nice if we could do this in Camelot the next time someone or something wrecks the place."

But Munsalvaesche's new heir and master wasn't finished yet. "Now, heed me," he yelled, and his voice grew louder and louder, multiplied by the sudden abundance of empty and non-dilapidated rooms in the castle. "I have sworn fealty to Prince Arthur of Camelot, and will neither serve nor rule another. I name myself steward, and give the land and all rights to it wholly and completely to Arthur, Prince Regent of Camelot, someday its king."

There was a rumbling, as if the land was acknowledging his words, and the gold vanished from Percival's eyes. His knees trembled as the power went out of him, but he did not fall. Instead, he looked at wide-eyed Arthur, whose mouth was hanging open a bit like a fish. "The land is yours now," he said, hoarse from shouting. "Munsalvaesche is now a province of Camelot. Hope you don't mind me giving you a land that, strictly speaking, is illegal, but I've no head for ruling, myself."

Arthur's jaws clicked together in a way that looked like it _had _to hurt. He nodded once. "…Right," he said. "…Thanks…I guess. Can you…dismiss the ghost?"

Percival turned, but the Fisher King was already blinking out of existence.

"Excellent, thank you," Arthur said. He looked down at the sword in his hand as if he'd forgotten about it. The point was dragging the ground. He sheathed it and looked up again. "Right," he said, swallowing. "Back to Camelot, then, and let's not mention a word of this to anyone outside the Table, agreed?"


	23. Percival 11

**And now, since everyone's wondering why Arthur stupidly hasn't noticed the "Magic" slip from the dwarf on the bridge, here you are!**

* * *

Two weeks later found Arthur lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. He'd forgiven Percival quickly…perhaps a little _too _quickly, but he figured that was all right. For starters, Percival hadn't known about any of it, and he was born into the power, so it's not like he could help it. Second, it's not wise to antagonize or threaten someone when it was likely the ground would swallow you whole if you did. The magic thing still bothered Arthur—he'd been told all his life that magic corrupts, but now he'd seen an example of what was almost the _opposite, _and that took a lot of thought. Especially with dead King Anfortas saying magic loved him. Most of the magic he'd come in contact with had been trying to kill him. That didn't sound like love. Although there were those few times, like the light in the cave...

Although he'd had a devil of a time explaining it to Agrivaine and the council and not quite all the paperwork was done yet, Munsalvaesche had officially become a province of the Pendragon dynasty. Camelot had doubled in size—with the promise of Orkney on Lot's death, it would quadruple. Arthur was leery about letting his people go to live in a magical kingdom, but Percival said it had never hurt the people before. Apparently half the population of Camelot, _including _Arthur, had ancestors who had lived in Munsalvaesche, before the Fisher King started to fade, and the country missed having people in it. As steward, Percival apparently still had some kind of speaking or observing contact with the land even while in Camelot, which was both disturbing and dead useful.

Leon and Agrivaine had managed not to kill each other, although the way Leon told it, it was a close thing. Gwaine had returned just two days before now. He'd _found _Garis, thank the heavens, no worse for ware, and looked much better for it, too. Garis was in hiding up north, in Old Orkney, and probably would be until Lot was dead. The boy had practically ordered his brother back to Camelot when Gwaine showed a reluctance to leave, but he wouldn't come down himself. It was too close to Cenred's old lands for one thing, the people would have lynched a known Prince of Orkney for another, and he couldn't be of any use to Camelot for yet another. They had learned all this yesterday when Arthur called a meeting of the Round Table (one Agrivaine wasn't allowed at, which resulted in the grown lord sulking in the council chambers for hours) to explain the Percival situation in full and get a report from Gwaine.

It wasn't any of that that was keeping Arthur awake right now.

It was the memory of the dwarf from the bridge, listing things off in turn. Courage, chivalry, curiosity, magic, daring…what did it all mean? He understood that it was a name thing, but which one was which?

Elyan had to be daring. The man would never grow out of his wanderer spirit and had problems with authority that would have made an anarchist blush. He was a good man, a loyal knight, and a great friend, but he was also brasher than Merlin at the worst of times.

Chivalry, too, was obvious. It had to be Lancelot. Lancelot, who he still caught making eyes at Gwen every once in a while, but he knew wouldn't try anything, for love of Arthur just as much as respect for Gwen's decision. Lancelot, who would practically take the shirt off his back so his horse wouldn't have to step in a puddle. The man was all formality and sacrifice and honor, wrapped around a quiet core of love and humor. It was enough to make Arthur sick sometimes, but he knew it was what made Lancelot _Lancelot. _

And Arthur had to be courage, simply because Merlin and Percival couldn't be.

But he was having trouble fitting Percival and Merlin into Curiosity and Magic.

Merlin _couldn't _be magic, because it was _Merlin, _for crying out loud. You'd have to be _stupid _to think for an _instant _that Merlin could be associated with magic in any way. So Merlin was curiosity. But what was Merlin so curious about?

Percival was magic. He was the heir to a magical kingdom. A conduit for the inherent magic in a land. Arthur had watched as his eyes turned gold and a dead country was spoken back to life. So Percival had to be magic. But Percival _didn't have magic. _

Percival as curiosity made a little more sense. He didn't talk much, but even in Camelot he had a tendency to hang around closed or locked doors until they opened, just to look around the room and walk off. Covered dishes made him fidget. He liked finding things out, and the rare instances that he talked were often used to ask questions or inform people of things he'd learned. He'd seemed to ask a lot of questions in the castle, too. But Percival _couldn't _be curiosity, because that would make Merlin magic, and Merlin couldn't be magic.

Arthur thought hard for another moment. "Oh!" he said. "The footprints!" Merlin noticed the strange things about Percival in the Perilous Lands long before anyone else had. He made the connection first between the effect of the land and Percival's voice. He was always noticing things around Camelot, too. That was it. There was no other option. Percival was Magic for his connections, and Merlin was Curiosity because he always noticed things.

Arthur sighed happily, rolled over, and drifted off to sleep.


	24. Reconciliation: The First Grail Knight

The Percival, or Percivale, or Parsifal, or Parzifal, of legend was raised "in ignorance" by his mother, which meant he didn't know what weapons, horses, or armor was until he stumbled (sometimes literally) upon one of Arthur's knights and was directed toward Camelot. There his strength and natural prowess made him one of Arthur's greatest knights. Percival is one of a handful of Men of Purity in the Arthurian legends. A knight of ultimate goodness with a complete lack of understanding of evil and the _in_ability to be corrupted by the same. Because he is raised in ignorance, he does not understand proper protocol and must be instructed at length in good manners. One of the things he is taught is it is not polite to ask questions.

I decided not to touch on the Man of Purity angle and hang more on the Grail Knight side.

Percival is also the original Grail Knight. Before Sir Thomas Mallory got a hold of the legends, Percival was the only knight who set forth on the quest to find the Holy Grail. He stumbled upon the castle of Anfortas the Fisher King, who is often his uncle, though he doesn't know it. He is shown several spectacles and marvels, but does not say a word throughout. It's rude to ask questions, after all. At last he is shown a bleeding lance and a magnificent cup: the Holy Grail. The dying king drinks from the Grail, and then Percival is escorted out of the castle. Once he leaves the castle vanishes and Percival learns that if he, a completely innocent soul, a Man of Purity, were to ask a question, the Fisher King would be healed.

Percival spends the next several years of his life searching for the castle once more, but must prove himself worthy of entering again. After jumping through a few metaphorical hoops, he is invited back into the castle where he marches up to his uncle and asks a question. It's usually something along the lines of "What's wrong with you?" or "Whom does the Grail serve?" The king is healed and Percival becomes the king upon his death.

After Sir Thomas Mallory got a hold of the legends, Percival became one of three Grail Knights: Percival, Bors, and Galahad. I took the name Munsalvaesche as the old name of the Fisher King's lands because that is the name of the Grail-castle in one of the Percival-centric Grail stories. Corbenic is the castle of the Lancelot/Galahad Grail-cycles, and that name may pop up again as something different in this story.

As to the "king bound to the land" line, it's a common enough yarn in mythology stories. Sometimes Anfortas' life is bound to the land; other times, it's some other king. There are occasionally rituals that can be performed to bind one's king to the land. In the Galahad Grail stories, it's often _Arthur _who is bound to _England, _which could be a really fun riff to play in later…

Anyway, if you have any other questions about Percival's story, PM me or review and I'll see if I can answer. Next up is Freya's story, ish, only it's not Freya's story at all, nor Freya's secret. In fact, it's more like Merlin's secret, but it is the reconciliation of Freya, and Kilgarrah, and Aithusa, and Avalon, and a certain king named Vortigern…


	25. Freya and Friends 1

***gasp* Guess what? This story might be delivered in two-shots instead of four! *gasp again* **

**Why? There's a _lot _of material to cover with Little Miss Dead. These chapters may be longer than what you're used to in this story, which could be good or bad. Don't get used to it, because next comes Gwen and I'm having to bend over backwards to fit her in. Freya's coming along easily, but Gwen's like pulling fingernails. Freya's might be a chapter or two long, and Gwen might be three or four short. GIRLS! COOPERATE!**

* * *

And so, time went on. Although for a while, time in Camelot could be measured in tragedies rather than days.

Morgana reappeared, briefly, and the Dorocha were unleashed upon the world. The young Round Table had a close call with Merlin and suffered its first loss when brave Lancelot died to banish the spirits and close the door between the worlds. There was an intense period of mourning, cut short by a combined heartache and triumph for all involved.

Uther was killed on his son's birthday, in a successful effort to save his son's life. The people were saddened by the passing of their king, but had been mourning _him _for the last year. His death was a formality in the eyes of most of Camelot, who had already been thinking of young Arthur as their king. Among the Round Table, the loss was felt deeply, as all members shared in Arthur's grief.

Most of them would be willing to admit, however, that Uther's death and Arthur's consequent ascension also gave them a bit of relief. Percival no longer had to hold his breath when passing Uther's door, for instance, for fear the magic-hating king could somehow smell the sorcery on him.

Then came the stories of dragon's eggs and sneaky thieves and other such wondrous happenings. As far as the non-warlock members of the Round Table knew, the egg had been destroyed when the castle collapsed. Merlin knew better of course, and felt better, too. Somehow hatching the little dragon made him feel better about the whole Uther dying…fiasco.

But several weeks after the hatching of the egg, and a couple of weeks before Arthur's first great test as king, something happened that would rock Merlin's feelings of contentment and promise.

It was a very small something, something that he almost ignored.

He heard a voice. In his head. In his sleep.

"_Merlin…oh Merlin…I'm waiting, Merlin…We may have a problem here…" _

Merlin snorted in his half-sleep. "Kilgarrah, go away," he moaned, rolling over. "I don't want to talk right now."

_Merlin, if you don't get your behind out of bed and down to this lake in the next hour I'm going to…lock you in a tree! _

The warlock snorted again. "That doesn't even make sense."

_Oh, yes, and I can already picture you answering me, too, never mind that I can't hear you from way over here. Sometimes I think Arthur's right when he calls you an idiot. MERLIN!_

And it was only then Merlin realized it was a _girl's _voice in his head. He jerked awake, sitting up and rubbing his temples. "Grand," he muttered, climbing out of bed and fumbling for his clothes. "Some druid girl in bind, probably."

_No, _he thought, after a moment. A druid girl would be calling him _Emrys. _So who on earth was this?

The voice sighed. _Merlin. Lake of Avalon. Now, if you don't mind. We have a problem, and I need your help. Come. Hurry. _

And this time, it sounded familiar.

* * *

**Also, anyone have any ideas for an image for this puppy? It's getting hard to sort through fools when I update.**


	26. Freya and Friends 2

"…Freya?" he breathed, hardly daring to believe it. He rushed to dress, feeling much more awake now that he recognized the voice, and ran out into the night. Freya's voice echoing in his head, he went to the stables for a horse and was riding out less than twenty minutes after waking.

He barely took the time to tie his poor, sweating horse to a tree when he actually arrived at the lake. Shaking, he stepped toward the water, still hearing her (somewhat annoyed) voice in his head. "Freya?" he called out.

The voice went silent. There was a light under the water, and there she was. Rising out of the dark lake and glowing like a star. She was dressed all in white, and her eyes were shining. She looked at him and smiled. "Merlin," she said, gliding toward him and stepping onto the shore. "I've missed you, my love."

He gave a small cry and embraced her. She felt warm and solid…and very wet, although she looked dry. His clothes were soaked when he stepped back, still holding her hands. "But…but how is this possible? You were dead. I buried you myself."

She laughed. "Yes, in the _Lake of Avalon. _And you used magic to do so. The two sort of mixed together and…I don't fully understand it myself, but I will soon."

Merlin frowned. "Why? What happens soon? What's going on? Why did you call me? How did you call me? What—"

His next question was forgotten as soft lips covered his own. The warlock smiled into the kiss and pulled Freya into his arms once more. For what seemed like only seconds and was probably even less, the woman pulled away briskly and dusted her hands together. "Now that _that's _out of the way, pay attention. We've got a problem."

Merlin blinked. "Uh…"

"Look, it's not that I'm not happy to see you and everything, because I am, and I love you, and I've missed you like you wouldn't believe, but we've got a bigger issue at hand than young love, and I sort of have a job now."

"Sort of?" Merlin asked, still blinking.

The white-clad druidess glanced at him, and it was impatience now making her eyes glitter. "Merlin, darling, you've got to get your head around this. I know it's late, and you're tired, and confused—"

"Um, confused more than anything." He caught her hand in one of his own, trying to bring it to his lips. She pulled away, casting him a scolding look, which he ignored. "Freya, how are you alive?"

She sighed. "I'm not. Well, not all the way. But I will be. Maybe. I don't know. It's complicated. Lance and I keep trying to puzzle it out, but—"

"_Lance?"_

"Lancelot, yes. The circumstances of his death grant him a half-life in Avalon, like me. Although in my case it's the circumstances of my burial." She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and squeezed the bridge of her nose a moment. "All right. Merlin. I'm not just Freya the witch-cursed druid girl anymore. You and Arthur changed all that. You are Merlin Emrys, destined defender of the Once and Future King, and I am Freya Vivienne, Lady of the Lake, Queen of Avalon, Keeper of Arms." She took his hands in her own. "And yourheart. But there will be time for that later. We don't have much time now. I don't know how long I can stay, and I've got to explain all this to you."

And Merlin was back to blinking.

"…I've broken your brain, haven't I?"

Merlin nodded and sat down heavily. "…Isn't Avalon trying to kill Arthur?"

"Yes, that is the conundrum, isn't it?" Freya turned, swishing her white skirts as she did, and sat down beside him. "It isn't supposed to be, see? But Uther's wrecked everything with his Purge. Avalon's been in ruins ever since Nimueh went wonky—nearly thirty years, now. That's why they shut the gates, and at such a high cost to open again."

The word _wonky _threw Merlin for another loop, but it sounded natural on Freya's tongue. "What's Nimueh got to do with it?"

"She was the last Lady of the Lake. Avalon's got to have a Lady, or things get—"

"Wonky?"

She nodded, and her lips curled into a smile. "Exactly. I became Lady when you buried me here, but I'm still half-dead, and I will be until we can manage a couple of things. I've been fighting to get things sorted around here—like retaking the Sidhe Eldership, unscrambling magics—but I can't do much else until we get the gates open."

Merlin tensed and pulled away from her. "We'd have to kill a prince."

"No, that's the method the Sidhe want to use. There are other ways, and I've almost got one of them pinned flat. Kilgarrah's been helping, although he's been busy childrearing as of late." The sparkle went out of her eyes then, and her skin went pale and sallow against the dark of her hair and the white of her gown. "That's why I've called you, my love."

"What's why?"

"It's the dragons. Kilgarrah took Aithusa to a cave, a couple kingdoms over, to be close to a source of magic. But they're stuck now. Sealed in. They can't get out, which is bad, very bad."

The warlock frowned. "Why is it bad?"

"Because, for one, dragons are creatures of the Old Religion and their magic and survival helps keep Avalon up and running, and Avalon is supposed to be helping human princes. And there's other stuff involved, prophecy-type stuff I'm not allowed to talk to you about, that has to happen." She rolled her eyes. "You need Avalon to fulfill this whole destiny thing you and Kilgarrah are so keen on. For another thing, you're a dragonlord and Kilagarrah and Aithusa are your kith and you _have _to help. Also, Aithusa is in his formative…whatevers for a dragon and shouldn't spend it all copped up with _Kilgarrah. _He'll be _thinking _in circles and you won't get a lucid word out of him. I, for one, don't want to have to ask my questions in riddles, much less get answers that are even more brain-tricky than the big lizard's."

Keen. Wonky. Kith. And...brain-tricky? Merlin wished he'd had time to get used to Freya's vocabulary before she died. "All right…and why are they stuck?"

She sighed and shook her head. It wasn't a sad sigh, or a puzzled one. It looked and sounded more like she was shaking her head at something that was old news, that Merlin should have known about. "Vortigern," she said, rolling her eyes yet again. "Vortigern and his stupid, _stupid _castle."

* * *

**Anyone getting any ideas?**


	27. Freya and Friends 3

**Just one today. Toes dragging.**

* * *

"Tell me again what it is we're going to do?"

Merlin sighed and turned toward the man on the horse next to his. "We're going to Westmorland to look for the Cup of Life. How many times do I have to explain it to you?"

"You haven't explained anything to me, _Mer_lin."

"And I wouldn't have to if you didn't insist on coming with me!"

Arthur scoffed and his servant's snapping tone. "As if I could possibly let you go to a strange kingdom I've hardly even heard of to look for a dangerous magical artifact that might not even be there anymore. Now. Explain it to me _properly." _

Merlin resisted the urge to groan. He barely understood himself, after all, and he'd had Freya explain it to him _twice. _

Apparently dragons were easier to contain than one would think, as both of them were now trapped in the Cave of Ancient Lakes or some such nonsense. All because some idiot king was trying to build a castle over the entrance. Merlin really didn't know what Freya expected him to do about a castle construction project, but he knew he had to give it his best shot anyway. Trying to take time off without Arthur suspecting he was going to rescue a pair of dragons, however, proved to be impossible. The king had followed him, putting Leon and Agravaine in charge while he was gone, and now refused to leave.

The warlock took a deep breath, stalling to make sure he had his lies straight. "I talked to one of my Ealdor contacts. They said that Garis' sorcerer friends had taken the Cup of Life into Westmorland and were planning to stay there for some time. If we want to steal the Cup back, now is the opportune time."

Arthur frowned. "We're going to search and entire country for one little band of travelers?"

"The country isn't large, Arthur. You could walk across it in less than a day. This man who rules it, King Vortigern, he established the country just a year or so ago. He hasn't even gotten his castle built yet. He's very picky—spent months just looking for the spot with the best view. Now he's been trying to build it, but it falls down after they hit a certain spot in construction." He shook his head. "You'd think he'd try someplace else, but he's either an idiot or more stubborn than anyone I've ever met."

The king looked sideways at him. "And you learned all this from your Ealdor contact?"

"Uh…yeah, I did."

"And why on _earth_ would Garis' men go to…what was it?"

"Westmorland?" Merlin swallowed. This was the part he'd _really _been worried about when he knew Arthur wouldn't turn back. "Because…magic is legal there."

Arthur froze, which would have made more of an effect if his horse hadn't kept walking. "…You're willingly going into a place where magic is _legal?_"

Merlin nodded, humming. "That's why the whole 'castle falling down thing' is so strange. He's using sorcerers to build it." And why the dragons couldn't get out. For one reason or another, anyway.

"And they're doing it? Building it, I mean." The king thought a moment. "I wouldn't have thought…I mean, I never would have thought. Sorcerers building things. Using their powers for something so… mundane."

"They have to make a living somehow, don't they? I'm assuming, that is. It makes sense to me. If I were a sorcerer, I would want a steady job, you know?"

Arthur glanced at his servant. "I'm not sure if I like you talking so familiarly about sorcerers, Merlin."

"I live with Gaius. If you're going to keep a magic expert around, you're going to get the people around him talking about sorcery."

Arthur frowned and kicked his horse ahead of Merlin's. Merlin shrugged and decided to let him sulk for a while. And it was a while. A little less than two hours later, Arthur slowed down to let Merlin catch up with him. "Merlin," he said, speaking slowly. "What guarantee do we have that Garis' sorcerer friends haven't…used the Cup?"

Merlin snorted. "You mean other than the complete lack of undead armies walking around, tearing kingdoms to bits?"

"Don't get witty, _Mer_lin. I'm being serious."

"So am I."

Arthur reached over and slapped the back of Merlin's head—from the saddle, which was quite an achievement. Merlin wasn't thrilled that his friends seemed to do their most impressive feats while trying to hit him. They made faces at each other before Arthur elaborated. "They're sorcerers. They probably know what the Cup is, what it can do. What's stopping them from using it?"

"Loyalty to Garis?"

"Magic corrupts. There's no room for loyalty."

Merlin coughed to cover his bitter laughter. "…What about Percival?" he asked.

"…That's different. Percival doesn't have magic."

"But he's in contact with a magical country." Merlin smirked. "And what about Gwaine? He didn't use magic himself though, but he took advantage of it, with his hair, and he wasn't corrupted."

Arthur scowled. "I'm choosing to completely ignore all comments made regarding Gwaine's hair and possible sorcery."

"I wonder if he uses contraband magic potions to keep it so shiny…"

"He'd better bloody well not be!" Arthur shouted. He reached across to slap Merlin again. Merlin laughed, kicking his horse, and a race broke out. Merlin won, which Arthur blamed on his two second head start, and vowed to give Merlin extra chores when they got back to Camelot. Merlin just smiled. He had effectively distracted Arthur from all thoughts of magic. Now if only he could keep it up and find a way to free the dragons as well.


	28. Freya and Friends 4

**Uh, I apologize, but this chapter is not funny. At all. I needed Arthur to get a slap in the face and this served nicely.**

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The way into Westmorland was _crowded. _After coming to the next kingdom or so, there was a large road heading into the country, jam packed with travelers and wagons. Some were just travelers, traders, and merchant-types, but most seemed to be family units. They looked like normal people and sounded like normal people and behaved like normal people, but Arthur and Merlin had nearly died of shock their first night on the congested road.

One person from almost every little individual traveling company joined a big group by the side of the road. They all joined hands and made a giant ring. Someone put a single stick of wood in the middle of the ring. The two Round Table men stepped closer, curious. Then they'd fallen into each other with half-smothered yelps as the ring raised their hands and at least twenty pairs of eyes flashed golden. The stick was consumed with a bonfire large enough to warm all travelers within a one mile stretch of road.

Arthur, his hand trembling on the hilt of his sword, had looked at Merlin and Merlin could see _terror _in the young king's eyes, something he'd hardly thought possible. He felt almost sick himself, but he wasn't sure why. It was _beautiful _magic, and he knew the bonfire would burn all night long and need only that one stick to maintain itself. Maybe it was the fact that this would clearly be a _very _different sort of quest than either he or Arthur had ever gone on—and here was Arthur, already panicking. Three days later the two were a little more used to it, although Arthur was actually looking forward to entering the magic-legal country now, to get an ounce of peace of mind. Had their magical traveling companions sleeping all around him realized who he was, Arthur had no doubt he'd be dead. He hadn't slept in days.

And then there was the talk. Three days of magical sob stories. Another day and Arthur would consider going out to hang himself to save everyone else the trouble.

"Heading to Westmorland?" murmured the head of one family to another. When an answering nod was given, the speaker continued. "We're just coming in from New Orkney, passing through on our way to Old Orkney, where Lot's reach is weaker."

The other man had nodded. "We're leaving Camelot," he told the other. "Our daughter's ten. My Rena cried for a week when she started moving things. Our family has lived in Camelot for ten generations. We had to leave everything…Our parents will never see their granddaughter again."

On Merlin's side, another conversation had started between two other families. "My husband was killed for sorcery three months ago," a young woman said to her walking companion, her expression hard and brave. "We'd only been married a year. He was executed on our anniversary. Then I found out I was with child. I couldn't stay in Mercia a minute longer."

"You did right," the man beside her said. "My sister…her husband was convicted a month after she gave birth. When Father found out she'd had a sorcerer's son, he…he…"

The woman tossed her braid back and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Drowned him, didn't he? Better a dead grandson and a live family than risk harboring a sorcerer without knowing it?" The man nodded, tears sparkling in his eyes. "My mother said the same thing to me, when I told her why I was leaving."

"My sister went mad and was dead within three days. I couldn't stay in Camelot anymore. I just couldn't."

Arthur's face burned crimson and he stared at the ground, trying not to listen. Merlin nudged him with his shoulder, although his heart ached even as he did. _His people. _He was among his people and he couldn't admit it, not while Arthur was with him. He could feel their pain, but he couldn't commiserate. It _hurt. _

"Maybe someday we can live in peace," somebody was saying behind them. "Who knows? There's Garis ap Gwyar."

"Aye, gods bless the ap Gwyar boys. And they say Queen Annis may turn sympathetic."

"I've heard all these delicious rumors about Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur's ears were now pink.

"What sort of rumors?" the pregnant woman asked.

The speaker, a blemish-y teenaged boy in a green shirt, turned to her. "They say he's requiring a fair trial now, for anyone accused of sorcery. Someone was actually _acquitted _a month back. Some say he might be someone important to us, and he may smile on us yet."

The man with the dead sister shook his head. "The son of the son of the dragon? Smile on_ us?"_ He laughed. "Do you hear that, everyone? This boy thinks Death's brat will repeal his Reaper father's ban on magic."

A sour wave of laughter broke out. Arthur's eyes burned. Someone punched Merlin's arm. "How about you two? You haven't said much these last three days."

The king of Camelot's smoldering eyes popped open wide, but he kept his gaze on the ground. Merlin stammered for a second, then began the story they'd been using. "We're cousins, leaving New Orkney. My parents died long ago, and Uncle Geoffrey was caring for both of us. Lot burned him for sorcery and we had nowhere else to go." _Yeah, that still sound's good. Now to explain Arthur's sudden catatonia. _"My cousin… has yet to get over his father's death. I…was out of town, but he saw it happen. Lot made him watch."

The company hissed and nodded in sympathy. "Lot's horrid," said one woman behind them, "but it could have been worse, for your cousin. Quietus would have burned him, too."

"Who?" Merlin asked, although he had a small idea.

"Uther the Reaper," the woman said, and her tone was hushed with fear even though the man himself was dead. "Quietus. Death."

"It is the only thing he ever offered us, the lying hypocrite." A man spat on the ground.

"We threaten our children with his spirit when they don't behave," another man said. "Heed your mother or Quietus will throw you down the well. Eat your vegetables or Quietus will send his Bear to gobble you up."

Merlin frowned. "His bear? …Oh."

Arthur shot Merlin a look, not understanding and not comfortable with this kind of talk at all. Merlin leaned forward and whispered into his master's ear. "It's an older language. Gaius was trying to teach me medical terms and I started asking questions. Arthur in the old tongue is Artos, and it means bear."

"Don't know why the Reaper was so unhappy to begin with," said the woman who had called him _Quietus _first. "He asked _Nimueh _to give his barren wife a child—" Merlin and Arthur both went rigid—"—when he could have asked the same of any hedgewife without the complicated old rites and it may have worked. I suppose he wanted to be sure it was a son, a perfect son, or something."

"True," said a man. "You should do well to think twice before asking something like that of someone with that kind of power, especially when she'd already shown signs of slaving to an unhappy Sidhe Eldership ready to revolt."

"But he didn't, and he knew a life would be taken—"

"I think he thought it would be NImueh's."

"Yes, exactly. And then instead of doing the sensible thing and deposing Nimueh, he has to go and start killing everything…"

There was a sort of collective sigh among the others before they began arguing amongst themselves about who should have died in Igraine's stead. Arthur was white by this time. He looked at Merlin. "You said—" he whispered hoarsely.

"I thought it was a lie," Merlin lied back, hating himself. "It made sense as a lie. Who'd imagine your father—"

"Quietus." Arthur closed his eyes, his breath coming shorter and shorter. "I can't stay here, Merlin. I've got to get out of here. We've got to leave, now."

"What about the Cup of Life?"

"Hang the Cup of Life. Get me _back. To. Camelot." _

"_Look!" _Someone yelled, pointing ahead. "It's Vortigern's half-castle! We've crossed into Westmorland!"

Several cheers started up and the pace quickened. Merlin grabbed Arthur's wrist and pulled him out of the road. "Look," he said. "Go back to Camelot if you want, but I'm going on. I'm _sure _Garis's men brought the Cup here and I'm going to find it. It won't take long to figure out if it's still here or not." He was almost half-believing the Cup of Life lie himself by this time, and had to remind himself he was really here for pesky dragons easily caught.

Arthur, still pale and a little twitchy, looked at Merlin and shivered. "Fine," he snapped. "Since we're already here, we may as well look around. But we're leaving as soon as we can, you hear? _As soon as we can._"

That same day, Arthur was recognized as the "Bear-King of Camelot."


	29. Freya and Friends 5

**Hopefully this chapter makes up for the slight tragedy of the last chapter. And that's all for today. Enjoy!**

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The two Camelot men were arrested, without warning or explanation. Whatever friendly picture of magic had been painted in Arthur's mind on the way into the country was erased upon capture—a contingent of sorcerers rather than soldiers arrived at the door of their room in the inn. They knocked Merlin unconscious and threatened to kill him if Arthur didn't come quietly. They were both thoroughly bound and dragged to the half-castle of Vortigern, the power-hungry King of Westmorland. There he saw what _Vortigern _was doing with the magic he had under his control.

Slaves. Vortigern was using a combination of dark magic and defeated enemy manpower to build his castle. Mostly just the west side, as the east side was already finished. The west side, however, would only go up so far before the mortar crumbled and the rocks fell down, crushing the slower builders to death. Arthur saw red, but being fully bound, couldn't do anything about it.

Evidently King Vortigern had his priorities confused, because there was a fully functioning dungeon on the east side but the throne room was half in shambles. Arthur and Merlin were unbound and thrown into adjacent cells. The doors locked themselves at a word from the guards.

"The king is busy now," said one of the sorcerer-guards pleasantly. "But he will be free soon and we will take you to see him. In the meantime _do _try not to make a fuss. It'd be a pity to have to kill you before Vortigern has had a chance to send a single ransom demand." And the two were left alone.

It was about this time Merlin started to wake up. Mostly because there was a dragon screaming in his head.

"Go away," Merlin moaned in his sleep, or at least he meant to. If it came out more like "Oway" no one but Arthur was listening.

_Merlin, it's about BLEEDING time you got here! _Kilgarrah yelled some more. And he didn't sound in a good mood. Merlin flinched. He'd say the dragon was hungry, having been locked in a cave for who knows how long, but he doubted Uther ever fed him while locked in _that _cave, so who knew if the dragon really needed to eat…And now he was screaming again. _I've been waiting AGES for you to get within earshot! _

"Bully for _you,_" the warlock moaned, rolling over on the floor.

"Merlin, wake up," Arthur hissed through the rock wall, trying not to sound anxious. "Wake up and tell me if you're all right."

_Merlin? _

"Merlin!"

_MERLIN! _

"Merlin, wake up and _say _something!"

"All _right, _I'm _awake,_" Merlin shouted, sitting up and clutching his throbbing head. "Why have I been so _popular _lately?"

"What?" Arthur answered.

"Nothing." He leaned against another wall, trying to ignore the dragon for now. "Where are we, exactly?"

Arthur sighed. "King Vortigern's dungeons."

Merlin peered through the bars in front of the small cell. "They're not very well guarded, are they?"

"I think the front door is enchanted," Arthur answered. "And the doors of the cells. And the locks on the doors. And probably the bars, too. One of the guards used a glove to open my cell door, and it wasn't exactly usable as a glove when the door was shut again…"

"Oh."

_Merlin, stop ignoring me. I know you're up there._

He groaned, loud and long, and considering beating his head repeatedly against the wall so conveniently pressed against his back. _Yeah, all right. I'm here. Where are you, is Aithusa with you, how'd you manage to get stuck in wherever it is, anyhow?_

"Merlin? Are you all right?" came Arthur's voice.

"My head's a little sore, but I'm fine. No concussion, no bleeding. Not even dizzy. Perfectly fine."

_Yes, Aithusa is here. Trust me on that. _He sounded annoyed, which was sort of hilarious. _He's not old enough to be able to talk to you like this quite yet, and if I were you, I'd count that as a blessing. I took him to the Cave of the Lake of a Thousand Tears_. Because that explained a lot. _He was in the egg so long, I wanted to take him to a source of deep magic to revive a little. Then Vortigern started building. I think I'll eat him when I get out of here…_

"What about you, are you all right, Arthur?" Merlin spoke slowly. Two conversations were _hard._

"I'm fine, not a scratch," Arthur answered. "Although they've started talking ransoms already."

_Wait, you'll eat Vortigern or Aithusa? _Merlin said, comprehending the last sentence for the first time.

_Either one. Possibly both. It's a tempting idea…_

"What kind of ransom are we talking about?" he asked Arthur before turning his attention back to the dragon. _Every time I run into a source of deep magic, it's in a cave. What was wrong with the Crystal Cave?_

_In the low parts of the earth, yes. Hence the _deep _part. It's where the magic returns to and comes out of. The Crystal Cave was a little much for a first trip. This cave is a bit nicer and more forgiving to younglings. _

_And what's keeping you stuck? _

"Vortigern'll want land, to expand his kingdom. I suppose I could give him part of Munsalvaesche and take the magical headache off my hands, but I'd have to run it through Percival and he'd never agree."

_There's sort of a…permission…thing. Part of what they're using is Camelot stone, somehow. I think they've been pillaging dead Munsalvaesche, and live Munsalvaesche is now Camelot, so the dead stone would have woken and claimed the new ownership. Since I can't go to Camelot, as were your orders, I can't break through the first layer. _

"Or maybe he'll just want money or materials to build his castle with. You know he's using _slave labor? _I'd kill him now, if I could just get my hands on him…"

_And it's a foreign castle, and I ought to have a dragonlord's permission to go anywhere civilized, and besides that, the magic being used to construct this fortress is very old and very dark and very _human _and we've been having some troubles breaking through the spells. _

"…Merlin? You sure you're all right?"

Now he _was _repeatedly hitting his head against the wall behind him. Too. Many. Words. "Fine. Just fine. Right as rain. Curious expression, that. _Right as rain. _How can rain be right, anyway?"

"Are you sure you're not concussed?"

"Positive. Concussed doesn't hurt this much. The confusion takes the edge off." Or maybe it was a dragon-induced nervous headache. He got those sometimes, when Kilgarrah was being particularly cryptic.

_Ok, I give you permission, I give you permission, and what do you need for the spells?_

_We've been breathing fire at them, but we don't know if that's had any effect._

"So that's why the castle's been falling down," Merlin muttered to himself.

He heard Arthur scuffling on the other side. "What? You know why the castle is falling?"

"Uh…" he thought for a moment. "There's a window in my cell." Which was true. "And a crack in the floor." Which was also true. "And there's water in the crack." Which was true as well—at least he hoped it was water. "And from the window I can see a little creek. I think it runs into an underground lake." Not true. Complete lie. Not the largest he'd told, or the best, but it would do. "Vortigern's trying to build a floating palace."

Which, if there was a Lake of Cavy Goodness underneath the west side, was also true.

_Merlin, pay attention. I'm trying to talk to you. I need you to send me some of your magic. _

_And how exactly am I supposed to do that? _

Another little Arthur scuffle. "We may be able to use that, Merlin, to buy _your _freedom, at least."

"Don't think for a minute I'm leaving without you!"

_Just think dragon thoughts and throw your magic out. _

Think dragony thoughts. This day was getting better and better. For once, Merlin ignored Arthur's self-conscious rant about how important Merlin was and how he wasn't afraid to die for a good friend and all that. Instead he closed his eyes, thought about what it felt to fly on a dragon's back, and mentally reached. The punch-in-the-gut feeling he'd felt when Percival was restoring the Lost Lands hit and he gasped.

"—Merlin!" Arthur said, breaking off in mid word.

"Fine. Told you. Just a headache."

_That's good, Merlin. Just keep that up, one steady stream, and we'll be out in no time. Aithusa, don't you dare— _But the connection broke off before Merlin found out just what it was Aithusa shouldn't be doing.

At this point, the guards walked back in. "The king will see you now," the cheerful one said, as if they'd been waiting in an antechamber instead of a dungeon. The locks popped and the doors swung open. Instead of being physically bound this time, they were magically pushed and tugged out of their cells and in front of the guards. Absolutely no chance to escape.

Despite himself, Arthur was impressed. Forget Orkney's Silent Alarm. Security here was _glorious. _


	30. Freya and Friends 6

**Just one for today, and just this one. I hit option paralysis with Bad Joke and a small bump in the next chapter and Especially There, for those of you reading circles around me. Be better in a day or so. Meanwhile, enjoy!  
**

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They were taken into the crumbly council room of the half-castle where a small crowd had gathered. A small group of robed, bald men huddled in one corner, reading something an arguing about it. They threw sparks when the argument grew heated. A misty-eyed woman in a gauzy gown floated around the floor, avoiding the occasional falling clump of rock with a wave of her hand and a gold flash of eye. Quaking servants attended to everyone, shrieking when someone got squashed by a rock or zapped by an unhappy sorcerer.

King Vortigern sat on his throne on the finished side of the room, watching the assembly with a lazy eye, worrying a rotting tooth with the point of a dagger. He smiled when he saw Arthur and Merlin. "Ah, there you are," he said, lowering the blade and stretching out his legs. The room fell silent when he spoke, all eyes turning to him. "Tell me. Why would the King of mighty Camelot sneak into Westmorland without paying homage to its ruler?"

Arthur growled. "You're no king. You treat your people like trash and kill hundreds on this stupid castle every day."

"Arthur, you're irritating the man who could chose to kill us later," Merlin hissed through clenched teeth, a smile plastered to his face. He had a feeling he couldn't use his magic while he was feeding it to Kilgarrah, and it made him feel weak and a little naked.

Vortigern laughed. "Have a care when you speak here, Pendragon," he spat. "Every single person in this room would be happy to see you die." He sat up straighter and leaned forward. "But you're not useful to me dead, are you?"

"What do you want?" the king of Camelot asked, eyes narrowing.

"Half of Camelot, if it wants its precious monarch back," he said. "You see…Westmorland is small, but growing in power. How can we not be, when all the firepower that your kind chooses to kill and banish come to _me _for refuge? My people would do _anything _for me, for fear I would outlaw magic like you have. I am the most powerful king on this island, but I need more land."

"And you want Camelot?"

He grinned. The ground rumbled and another bunch of rocks fell from the construction site. Arthur and Merlin stumbled, but everyone else seemed used to it. There was a scream, quickly drowned out by the heavy sound of rock striking ground—they could see the rock fall from the wall-less side of the room, but couldn't see it land. Vortigern waited for the commotion to die down. "Of course I do. I've already sent word of your capture. The message should arrive in a few hours—don't look so astonished. I've got nearly all the sorcerers in Albion at my disposal; there's no such thing as _slow _here. A peasant may have to die to hurry the process along, but it's a small price to play."

"You're a monster," Merlin snapped.

"No; I am a guardian angel. I can treat my people however I like and they'll never leave me or betray me or rebel because _they have nowhere else to go. _I enjoy the use of dark magic. I could be worse than Uther ever was, and they know it, and so they do nothing. It's a nice position to be in."

"And yet you can't even build a castle," Arthur said with a scoff.

"Yes, about that." He took a swig of a tankard that practically appeared out of nowhere. "Just hold them for a while, gentlemen," he said to the sorcerers behind the two Camelot men. "I don't think I've quite finished gloating yet, but I have some pressing business to attend to first."

The sorcerer guards dragged the two men to the side as Vortigern gestured to the robed men. "Well, soothsayers? What have you got to say? Why won't my castle stay put?"

The men moved forward as one and mumbled a bit before one of them stepped forward. "Oh, great king Vortigern!" he shouted, raising his arms and bowing low to the floor. "The land on the west side of the castle is cursed! No structure will stand until either the curse is broken or the castle is tied to the ground!"

Vortigern grunted, taking out his dagger to pick at his teeth some more. "So how do I do that?"

The man hesitated. "We have not found a way to break the curse, oh great king. But we have found a way to tie the castle to it. It is a human sacrifice. The blood of a sworn enemy, when mixed with the mortar, will bind the stone in ways that normal clay cannot. Your castle will stand then."

Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances, fear in their eyes. Both hoped fervently that Vortigern wanted land more than a solid castle and would spare Arthur for ransom.

"Hmm," Vortigern said. He picked a piece of chicken bone out of a molar. Merlin gagged. "And you, seer Vivian," the king called to the dreamy woman.

"I prefer prophetess, my lord Vortigern," she said, her voice light. She floated over to the king's side.

"You can prefer all kinds of things, Vivian," he snapped. "Tell me what you have seen."

She smiled a vague and happy smile. "Two dragons wage war in the caverns deep beneath your castle," she began.

Merlin started. _Oi, are you two fighting down there?_

_You'd be fighting, too, if you were stuck in a cave with a partly grown menace who alternates hourly between being a teething infant with the attention span of a gnat and a passive-aggressive juvenile with a flair for the dramatic who thinks he knows everything! _Kilgarrah snarled back. _I'd take Uther's chains for another year than another week down here with this…child!_

The warlock held back a snort of laughter. Vivian the eerie seer-prophetess had been watching Merlin out of the corner of her eye while that short conversation went on and only now that he was finished did she continue. "One dragon is huge and old and the color of dried blood and ashes. The other is small and young and white as the new fallen snow."

The others in the room began to murmur. Vortigern's colors where white and green. "Continue," he said after a moment.

Her sleepy smile widened. "That is all, really. As long as they struggle beneath your castle, it will fall. Only when they break free will your castle stand, but beware. If the Red wins, your castle and your kingdom will both cease to exist."

"Camelot," one of the soothsayers gasped. "Red is the Camelot color, and Camelot is an old, vast kingdom that likes to kill sorcerers by burning!"

"And Westmorland is the white," said another soothsayer. "This isn't a literal vision, King Vortigern. Everyone knows there are no more dragons, and the dragons are Westmorland and Camelot."

Vivian shrugged. "If you say so. I only see the visions. I don't try to understand them."

Vortigern frowned and tapped an unhappy finger on the arm of his throne. "Vivian, if I mix the blood with the mortar, will the castle stay?"

She shrugged again. "I told you, it's the dragons. Although I suppose if you wanted to add blood to the mortar the sacrifice may strengthen the castle enough to let it stand."

Arthur could be silent no longer. "But this is _ridiculous," _he shouted. All eyes turned toward him. "Dragons? Cursed lands? It's nonsense, the lot of it! There's only one thing wrong with your castle, and if you let my servant go, he'll tell you."

Merlin swallowed and increased the flow of magic. _Any time you're ready, Kilgarrah. Don't be shy. _

_We're only past the first layer. Have a little patience. _

Vortigern was walking toward them. "What would your _servant _know about building a castle?" he asked, eyes glittering dangerously.

"Nothing, but he is observant and has at least an ounce of common sense," Arthur said. "Let him go and listen to _his _theory."

The two kings held each other's gaze for a moment. "Release the dark haired one," he said at last, turning away.

The spell keeping Merlin still broke with a small _pop. _His knees went weak, but caught himself before he fell. He stepped forward, clenching his fists to hide the shaking. "The g-ground's too unstable to sup-pp-port the stone. You're t-trying to build a c-castle on water. T-there's an und-derground lake under the w-west side," he said. "You can s-sort of see where the tr-tributaries go in, from the other s-side. No building can st-st-stand on water."

The tankard appeared at Vortigern's elbow again, this time held by a shaking young servant. Vortigern took another swig and began stroking his beard. "Interesting ideas, all of them," he said. He glanced around the ground and pointed at a bucket next to the standing wall. A soothsayer picked it up, hesitant and nervous. "How about we start with the soothsayers, hmm? Kill King Arthur's servant."

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**I'm kind of in love with the term "half-castle." Does it show?**


	31. Freya and Friends 7

The sorcerers acted so quickly that they already had hold of Merlin before anyone else could process Vortigern's words. "What!" Arthur said, eyes widening suddenly. He struggled, but the spell held firm. "NO! Merlin's not your enemy!"

Merlin was struggling as well, squirming like an eel against the four sorcerers who had lifted him off the ground—one man for each limb—and were carrying him toward the bucket-holding soothsayer.

"It's _Camelot _that my people hate so," Vortigern said with a cruel smile. "Your servant has come from Camelot, and that makes him every bit the sworn enemy you are. Continue."

"No! You can't do this!" Arthur screamed. "MERLIN!"

Merlin was sending down magic in terrified, chaotic bursts. _Hurry, you overgrown lizard! We've got problems of our own up here!_

_I'm working on it—slow down with the magic—Aithusa, get down from there! No, don't touch that! _

Merlin was forced onto his knees over the bucket, facing Arthur—one last cruelty from Vortigern, he supposed. The four sorcerers held his arms while the soothsayer stood behind him. A sharp pain to the back of his head—the soothsayer had grabbed a handful of his hair and wrenched his head up. A knife was pressed to the side of his neck from behind. He felt a four or five spells falling around his shoulders, forcing him still. He could do nothing but stare at the screaming, panicking Arthur as the knife bit deep into his throat. _KILGARRAH—_

_Almost…there!_

The _sound _that followed was like the sky had split open. What happened had much the same effect. With a burst of flame, Kilgarrah came bursting out of the ruins of the half-castle, spraying rock and debris everywhere. All spells were forgotten at the sight of the dragon erupting from the ground. Merlin rolled away from his captors, one hand clutching his bleeding neck, and ran to where he'd last seen Arthur. The king had jumped forward as well, meeting him in the middle.

Then Aithusa shot out of the now less-than-half-castle, much faster than Kilgarrah and less than a quarter of his size. People—builders, soothsayers, seers, sorcerers, random commoners on the street in town—began screaming and running. Arthur looked stunned, but he wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulders and half-led, half-dragged him out of immediate danger. The dragons had taken to the skies, blowing fire and locking claws (as best they could, considering the size difference).

_What are you doing? _Merlin asked, a little dazed. The castle was falling to bits around them and Arthur was yelling in his ear and ripping off his neckerchief.

_The pesky little vermin bit me! _The dragon answered, swiping at Aithusa. _Again! It's time I taught the beast not to pick on things bigger than he is! _

"Merlin, look at me!" Arthur yelled, clearly not for the first time. He took his servant's chin in his hand and forcibly turned his head.

"OW!" Merlin yelped, trying to jerk his head back. Arthur's grip tightened. He prized Merlin's hand away from the gash in his throat and pressed the neckerchief over it. Then he ripped the bottom of his shirt and tied the bundle around Merlin's neck. Tight. "Um, that's not how you treat a neck wound?" he gasped, tugging at the bandage with slick, bloody fingers.

"Don't have time now, Merlin," Arthur said, yanking the warlock to his feet and into the screaming, huddled masses fleeing the castle. "In case you hadn't noticed, there are _dragons _above us."

"Oh, I'd noticed." _Kilgarrah? Mind doing me a favor?_

_A little busy now. _Kilgarrah roared and spit fire at Aithusa, who dodged out of the way, turned around, raised his tail, and shook his posterior in his caretaker's direction. Merlin could have sworn he heard a dragon voice going _nyah nyah _over the sound of screaming and burning. The Great Dragon roared again and whipped his own tail around, spanking the little dragon, who yelped and darted away.

_That's fine, _Merlin said, clutching his neck with his free hand while they ran—apparently Arthur wasn't going to let go of the death grip on his other wrist until they were out of the country. _But if you could do Vortigern some damage while you showed the kingdom your ever-impressive parenting? _

Kilgarrah obligingly turned his fire onto Vortigern's falling castle while swiping at Aithusa. The enchantments binding the east side of the castle held firm while the yet-to-be-built sections collapsed entirely. Most of the common people were out of harm's way by then and the sorcerers, used to falling rocks, weren't in any danger to begin with, but the west side of the half-castle was destroyed beyond repair. With as much of the castle gone as was going to be, Kilgarrah turned his full attention onto his little white opponent.

After several long minutes of random mob running and trampling, the people realized that the dragons were far more interested in harming each other than they were in dragging off villagers. The screaming died down to a keening, terrified wail, the senseless running stopped—some people even turned around to watch the dragons fight. After all, when would they get another opportunity to see something like that? Dragons didn't exist anymore…

Arthur was one of the ones who had stopped, dragging his dazed servant into an archway. "Merlin," he said, untying the clumsy bandage. Merlin, busy listening to Kilgarrah shout obscenities to Aithusa in his head, didn't hear. "_Merlin,_" he said a bit more forcefully, tapping the warlock's cheek.

"Huh?" said Merlin, turning back and hissing in pain as he did so. "What?"

"Are you all right," Arthur said, the panic of the last three days and current situation showed in his jittery hands. When they got back to Camelot, the poor king was going to crash, _hard, _Merlin could tell. "Merlin, are you listening to me?"

"Oh, yeah," Meriln said, letting Arthur pull the bandage off and poke at the still-bleeding wound. "They didn't hit any veins, Arthur, I'm not going to bleed out," he said. The king ripped another large strip off his shirt, balled it up, and pressed it to the wound. "They were distracted before the actual throat slitting could happen. It's deep and it hurts, but it's not life-threatening."

"Yet you're still bleeding, and I don't like how pale you are," Arthur said, not taking his eyes off of Merlin's neck. "You've still lost a lot of blood and it's not stopping yet. For all I know the bloody soothsayer's knife was enchanted."

Oh. Hadn't thought of that.

The dragons roared again. Merlin and Arthur looked to the skies. Kilgarrah had finally caught Aithusa. He was shaking the little dragon with both of his front legs, and Aithusa was shrieking with indignation at his treatment. It must have been a teenage-drama-king hour. The two writhed and fought for a few more moments before Kilgarrah dragged Aithusa away from the half-castle and off into the distance. Soon they were just a loud speck on the horizon.

_Where are you going? _Merlin shouted. _We're not finished here yet!_

_I'm going to take the pipsqueak somewhere where he can't get into any trouble! _Came the echo-y answer. _Be back soon! _

Arthur was shaking his shoulder. "Merlin, did you see the big one?" he said, slowly.

"Of course I did. It was _right there, _and huge and how could I miss it?"

"It looked an awful lot like the Great Dragon, don't you think?" He sounded a bit dangerous now. "Exactly like it, even. Which is hard to explain, because _you _said I'd dealt it a mortal blow."

Merlin swallowed. "…I thought you had," he said. "The blow did strike, and it flew away! I thought it was going away to die! Isn't that what animals do? Go off on their own to die?"

Arthur shook his head and pulled Merlin to his feet again. Merlin rather wished he'd stop doing that. "Come on. We've got to find Vortigern."

"Why exactly, do we have to find the man who just tried to sacrifice me to a _castle?" _

The King of Camelot looked at his servant, his face grim and set. He looked at the ruins around them, the panicky people and the dead bodies. He found a man with a sword strapped to his waist and pulled the sword out of its sheath. "Because his city is burning, his sorcerers have fled, and we're on equal footing now," he said, giving the sword an experimental swing. "And I'm not _finished _with him yet."

* * *

**Ew, not sure I like how that turned out. Anyway. **


	32. Freya and Friends 8

"Vortigern!"

Arthur was striding down the streets of Westmorland, stepping around the rubble and bodies, swinging the sword as he went and calling in a clear, strong voice that carried well over the sounds of fire and tears. Merlin looked a lot less dignified, scampering after him with one hand on his wound, which had stopped bleeding and started aching. He also looked a lot less confident in Arthur's plan. Such as it was.

"Vortigern, come out of hiding!" Arthur called. "You want Camelot, don't you? Come and take it."

"Arthur—"

"Shut up, Merlin, I know what I'm doing." He raised his head high. "I can see it now. Vortigern, the Coward-King of Westmorland. They may call me a bear, but they will call you a _dog_."

"Don't they already, sort of? I mean, his standard is a wolf—"

The king himself stepped out from behind a pile of rubble. His forehead was bleeding and he had a rather insane look in his eye. "No need to shout, I'm here," Vortigern said, baring his teeth. He drew his own sword. "What is it that you want?"

The people gathered in the streets had gone quiet and hid while Arthur walked, but now they were massed and _staring. _First dragons, then the King of Camelot; the day was full of horrible things. Whispers began about the fight that looked to be brewing between the two kings.

Arthur raised his sword. "How about we settle this with honor, in the knight's way? Single combat. No tricks, no magic, just blades. You win, I die and you take Camelot. Not half. All of it. I win, you die, and Westmorland belongs to me."

The whispers escalated into a dull roar, and it wasn't clear whose side the people were on. "Oh, yeah, because _that _sounds like a good idea," Merlin said with a groan. As usual, he was ignored.

Vortigern blinked, then smiled. "High stakes, young cub. Sure you can follow through?"

Arthur swung the sword in another smooth circle. "Try me, but be warned. I don't intend to lose."

"Neither do I," said Vortigern, his grin expanding, lifting his own blade and beginning to circle around the other king.

So began the fight between the Wolf of Westmorland and Camelot's Bear—not with a tournament handshake or a flurry of attacks, but with a quiet threat and a single step. The people's roar dropped to a tense, almost sickened buzz. If it hadn't been clear before, it was now. This was no casual challenge. One of the rulers was going to die.

And forget the no magic rule, because Merlin wasn't about to let Arthur fight this man clean. It was only a matter of time before his sorcerers returned to their senses and it would be a peaceful day in Camelot before he assumed Vortigern was going to play nice.

It soon became clear that Vortigern may not need to cheat; he was a talented swordsman. He tapped his sword to Arthur's, almost lovingly, before jumping back. Arthur charged and the other king parried and backed up a few steps, pointing his sword at Arthur like a warning. First he was there, then he was gone. He and Arthur may have been evenly matched. A flash of Merlin's eyes and Vortigern stumbled, allowing Arthur an opening. He took it, aiming at his opponent's abdomen. Vortigern caught himself and deflected the blow, but it was close.

The duel stretched on, three, four, five minutes, the clashing of swords interspersed with muffled gasps as Merlin tripped Vortigern. After seven minutes, he began to see Arthur stumbling as well, and looked up to see a sorcerer on the other side of the crowd gathered to watch the fight. The man's eyes were focused on Arthur's feet. _Well, we can't have that, _Merlin thought. He flashed his golden eyes onto the sorcerer's belt, severing it. Preoccupied with pulling his pants back up, he was unable to stop Arthur from slicing open Vortigern's sword arm.

_Merlin?_ Came a faint voice in the warlock's mind. _I'm on my way back now. What's going on?_

_Nothing much. Just Arthur and Vortigern fighting to the death. _

Kilgarrah's laughter filled his mind while he snapped the fastening on the sorcerer's cloak and made Vortigern drop his sword. The king had it back just a second later, charging on Arthur. He started to trip him, but didn't need to; Arthur was ready with a parry and another strike. That was when the sorcerer noticed him—and tried to set his coat on fire. Merlin put out the flames and filled the sorcerer's boots with water. And if there was a tiny crab in the toe of one, who could blame him? He held back a laugh of his own as the sorcerer jumped, water sloshing out of his boots. A second later, Merlin twitched, feeling a sudden creepy-crawly-burning sensation in a very uncomfortable place. Ants, angry biting ants. In his pants. He didn't appreciate the humor. He summoned water to wash the ants out of his pants, dried himself off, and sicced a snake on the sorcerer's ankles, a silent declaration of war.

So caught up where the two magicians with their own silent battle, they forgot about the sword fight Arthur was currently losing. Vortigern knocked him to the ground for the second time and raised his sword for the killing stroke. Arthur rolled out of reach and jumped to his feet just in time to block another stroke. And another. And another. He dropped to the ground again. Vortigern gave another wolfish grin and pointed his sword at Arthur's throat.

A familiar and foreboding roar once again ripped through the air. Merlin jerked his head toward the fight to see Arthur on the ground, then into the air to see Kilgarrah headed back toward them. Vortigern also looked up, in horror. Arthur looked up and drove his sword into Vortigern's chest. Vortigern jerked and turned to Arthur, one last time, before falling sideways to the ground.

The people were screaming and running again, barely recognizing the fact that their king was dead and Death's son was now the ruler of the land—if the dragon started burning things again, there wouldn't be much of a land to rule over. Afraid that Arthur would be crushed under the stampeding mass of people, Merlin jumped forward and wrenched the sword out of his hand.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled before being pulled roughly to his feet.

_See how he likes it, _Merlin thought, making sure his king was steady. "Never mind the sword, Arthur, Vortigern's dead!" Merlin shouted in his ear. "We've got to go!"

They ran with the crowd while Kilgarrah flew over everyone's heads and headed toward the hills on the other side. _Do you need any assistance, young warlock? _

_Naw, Vortigern's dead. Wesmorland belongs to Camelot now. _

_Oh, dear. And the people know? _

_The ones watching the fight do. _

_You'll have to find a place of hide. Fast. _

_Why? _

_Remember that Westmorland has spent the last several years as a glorified refugee camp. Many of these people have magic. Now Camelot controls Westmorland and by law, these people should all be executed. They have nowhere else to go, nothing else to lose, and nothing to hold them back. If they find Arthur, they will kill him. _

"Right," he said aloud. "Let's go, sire."

"We _are _going, Merlin!" Arthur snapped. He didn't like being yanked along anymore than Merlin did.

"I know, but we need a place to hide you. The dragon's distracting everyone right now, but if the people find you you're dead."

Arthur tensed as the realization hit him. He grabbed Merlin's arm and led him toward the edge of the crowd, soon breaking free and heading in the opposite direction of the masses. Towards Kilgarrah. "Uh…"

"The closer we are to the dragon, the less likely the people will be looking for us there," Arthur hissed. First he pulled his servant behind a ruined wall. "Listen, I…I think I have a plan. I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days, and I have an idea, but you're right. We do need a place to hide first."

"What kind of an idea are we talking about?" Merlin asked.

"I'll tell you when it's safer." And the running began again.

They found a small cave at the foot of the hills a couple of miles from the castle. Merlin started to start a fire, but Arthur stopped him. "Remember that idea I told you about? It's turned into a plan. …I _need _you, Merlin."

Merlin frowned and stepped closer. "You know I'm here for you."

Arthur nodded. "I know. I have no right to ask this of a servant. It's dangerous. I can't even offer some food or a night's rest, and I know you're as tired and hungry as I am."

"Well you're not asking a servant, are you?" Merlin asked with a scoff. "You're asking a friend. What do you need?"

"I need you to get a horse and get to Camelot, as fast as you possibly can."

"Wait, I won't leave without you—"

"No, listen. When you get there, find Gwaine."

"Gwaine?"

"Shut up and listen. Tell Gwaine it's a matter of absolute importance and I wouldn't ask him otherwise. Only you and Gwaine, mind, no one else. Fewer people will go faster and be less noticeable, and it's a long way to Old Orkney."

Merlin frowned and shook his head. "I don't understand. What are Gwaine and I supposed to be doing?"

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. "Find Prince Garis and bring him here. I'll be waiting."

"Garis? What can he do?"

"Just _do it, _Merlin," the king snapped, falling back against the cave wall. "_Please. _For me."

Merlin paused and looked at his friend and king, _really _looked. Arthur had never looked more vulnerable. He leaned against the cave wall, panting, filthy, shiny with sweat, shaking with exertion, his eyes alight with the panic he'd shown traveling into Westmorland. For all he knew, they'd come into the country to fetch the Cup of Life and instead had managed to get insulted, captured, almost sacrificed, chased by a dragon, threatened, and scared. Scared more than anything. Merlin thought, that dark night he was touched by the Dorocha, that he'd never see Arthur so frightened again. But here he was, _more_ frightened_. _

Of course, the Dorocha were only monsters. The things people could do to each other were infinitely more terrifying than anything a monster could manage. And thanks to Merlin, he didn't even have a sword. If he was found, he had no way of defending himself. In a land filled with sorcerers his family had wronged.

"I'll go, Arthur," he said with a nod, already heading for the cave entrance.

"Please," Arthur said again as he reached the cave entrance. Merlin turned back, noting the liquid glint in his friend's eye. "Be _quick._"

Merlin gave him a small smile. "Oh, don't worry about that," he said. "I'll be back before you know it."

And he ran out of the cave once more. _Kilgarrah? I need a ride. And a favor…_


	33. Freya and Friends 9

Merlin rode Kilgarrah into Camelot, turning several days' hard ride into a few hours' flight, and found Gwaine in the tavern. After some quick conversation and quicker packing, the two had packs slung onto the backs of their horses and were riding north, into the wilds. Strictly speaking it was a week's journey from Camelot to Old Orkney and another day to reach Garis' fortress and ten day's travel from there to Westmorland. Garis, Gwaine, and Merlin, however, made the entire trip in thirteen days, and nearly ruined seven horses to do it.

Why?

Because Merlin had said Arthur was _scared. _That was as good a reason as any to do some irrational rushing.

Kilgarrah, meanwhile, had returned to Westmorland to do Merlin's favor. Namely, keeping Arthur properly fed and roasting anyone who got within a mile of his cave. It was painfully dull work, but the dragon soon found a way to keep himself…amused.

Kilgarrah roared and flew off the hill when he saw Merlin, Gwaine, and Garis riding toward the cave that housed the king of Camelot. Gwaine and Garis both tensed and reached for their swords, although what _Garis _thought he was going to do with his, Merlin would never know. They only relaxed when the dragon disappeared from view. A few more minutes of riding and the cave entrance appeared. And standing in the entrance was Arthur himself, nervous and jumpy and looking _indescribably _happy to be among friends again.

"Sweet Camelot, you look like a dung heap, Arthur," Gwaine said, half in laughter, half in alarm, as they rode up to the cave.

Arthur, who had lost quite a bit of weight and didn't look to have bathed in the thirteen days Merlin was gone, looked at Gwaine and shook his head. "Not you, too," he said with a hoarse moan.

"Not me what? I'm only telling the truth."

"I mean the Camelot thing. I think I hate it. And you three look as bad as I do." Arthur paused and nodded at Merlin. "Thank you, for coming quickly," he said, voice soft.

Merlin nodded back.

"And thank you, Prince Garis, for coming at all," he continued, stepping away from the wall. "Come inside. I have much to tell you."

"You have news?" Merlin asked as they entered the cave. Arthur had eaten well, it seemed—half-cured animal hides littered the floor of the cave, particularly in the corner where the king must have been sleeping. Perhaps the weight loss was out of fear.

Arthur nodded. "They've buried Vortigern, almost as soon as we left," he said, tossing another stick on the fire burning inside. "The people are governing Westmorland themselves now, badly. They've a new king every other day. Half of them are praising me for killing the tyrant and the other half are begging for my blood." He sighed and looked away from them. "And I've gone insane. The _dragon _has been _talking _to me."

All three of them started. "What?" they said at once.

_Kilgarrah! _Merlin yelled. _What have you been doing? _

_I was bored! _The dragon called back. _What did you expect me to do? _

"What on earth could dragon say to you?" Garis said at the same time Gwaine said "You are crazy. Talking dragons?"

They looked at each other. "Gary, dragons don't _talk_," Gwaine said with a small laugh.

"No, there are stories, the older ones, that contain talking dragons," Garis said. "You'd know if you'd continued your lessons instead of running off. There's even an old saying; _never dismiss the words of the dragons." _

"…So I'm not insane?"

Garis shook his head. "What did the dragon say?"

Arthur shook his head and began pacing. "He called me the Once and Future King and said he was honor-bound to protect me. What's a once and future king, though? How does that even make sense? And what could he know about me? I asked him why he attacked Camelot and he said it was a _mistake. _He was angry at my father and would not have hurt me."

"…Huh," Merlin said, his eyes a little out of focus. He was having a screaming row with Kilgarrah in his head. And he was losing, too. The saying should have been _never fight with dragons, with weapons or words. _"Well, never mind that. We're here now. What did you want with Garis?"

Arthur nodded and bid them to sit down. "Camelot does own Westmorland now, and I intend to keep it. Half its people are mine anyway and I intend to keep _them." _

Merlin ended the argument in his head at mid-scream, his eyes slamming onto the king of Camelot, fighting to keep from shaking his head in horror. This couldn't be happening. If Arthur outlawed magic in Westmorland…the people would never believe in a Pendragon king. If Arthur showed no signs of forgiveness, even the good sorcerers would be up in arms. If he took away the only place that people of magic felt safe, Albion was doomed and Merlin would never be free. _Merlin? _Kilgarrah said in his ear. _Are you all right? You trailed off in the middle of your—_

_Hush a moment, _Merlin snapped, seeing Arthur prepare to speak again.

The king drew a deep breath and gave a sort of weak chuckle. "…But I understand the people's plight," he said at last, quietly. "Which is why I've called Garis here." He straightened and took on a far more regal tone than Merlin had ever heard—royal _we _and everything. "Westmorland is too far away from our capitol to properly govern. We need a proxy, a man who can rule in our stead and carry out our laws while we care for the rest of our country. Prince Garis ap Gwyar of Orkney, despite the fact that we are at war with your country and your father is our enemy, we have decided we can count you among our true friends. And since you have shown something of an aptitude for ruling…"

Garis' face darkened, his eyes turning a bit wild. He shook his head. "No. No, no, no. I can see where this is going, Arthur Pendragon, and I won't. _I won't do it._"

Gwaine, alarmed at his brother's reaction, slipped his arm around Garis' shoulders. "Gary, it's all right. Calm down."

"Don't ask me to be king. I can't do it. I saw what it did to Mother and Father. Gwaine escaped, but I saw everything. Don't turn me into _them." _

Arthur crawled over to Garis' other side, Merlin next to him. "Garis, I'm not asking you to be a king. I'm asking you to be a regent, a lord. I'll still be king, and Westmorland will still be part of Camelot, but I do need you to rule in my stead." He looked at Gwaine. "It's a Percival thing, Gwaine. You know, Percival is master of Munsalvaesche through me as king? A proxy ruler. A voice for the land. And you'd best pay attention because you'll be doing this for Orkney when your father dies."

"Wait, _what _now?" Gwaine yelped, his arm tightening around his brother.

_Merlin, what's wrong?_ Kilgarrah asked.

_Arthur's doing something incredible. Hush a moment, I want to watch. _

Arthur put a hand on Garis' free shoulder. "I understand that the people need a place to go, and I understand that many of them don't have magic. Heck, I even understand that most of them are here are only here because my father was a hasty, paranoid king who didn't care for his people. It hurts, but I'll admit it. I need someone I can _trust _controlling Westmorland, and since I've still got your brother as collateral—"

"Hey!" Gwaine growled.

"—_and _I trust your judgment, and Gwaine's, and he said you're good at this kind of thing. All you have to do is what you did in New Orkney, with your father on the throne. The key to it all is…" His voice dropped and he glanced at each person in the cave in turn. "…I don't want to hear anything about magic in Westmorland. I want to hear that everything is going smoothly and Westmorland is just as much a part of Camelot as any other province. Whether it _actually _is or not is up to you. I give you my absolute trust in this matter, and I will not ask questions about how relaxed the laws are."

Garis had calmed during this explanation, sitting up straighter, listening attentively. "…Even though I am sympathetic to sorcerers and think magic is a tool like any other?" he asked.

"_Shhhh," _Arthur said, shaking his head. "_I _don't know that. _Understand?" _

Garis smirked as Gwaine and Merlin stared at each other. "_Perfectly, _your majesty. And I'll volunteer to continue being your Lord Garis of Westmorland when you lift the ban on magic, if you wish it."

Arthur shook his head and laughed aloud, not noticing the stunned look on Merlin's brightening face. "You understand me a bit _too _well, Lord Garis. I'm not going to lift the ban on magic. This isn't an act of sympathy toward those who practice magic. _This _is good politics, that's all. Vortigern was right when he said Westmorland was more powerful than any other country on the island. The place is a powder keg. If I didn't give the people a relaxing ruler, they'd overrun Camelot."

"Call it what you like," Garis said with a snicker. "I'll be waiting to say I told you so."

"Don't hold your breath," Gwaine muttered beside him. Then he dropped his arm and scooted away. "So now all we have to do is get you out of Westmorland, Arthur, without some sorcerer blasting your pretty little head off."

"You'll have no problems at all, once the people hear what you've done," Garis said, standing. "Come on. Let's go tell Westmorland what its king has given them."


	34. Freya and Friends 10

They went to the half-castle—Arthur apologized for not being able to give Garis a full one, but Garis said he rather like it just the way it was. There, in the open throne room where the current "king" of Westmorland squabbled land rights with a handful of other hopeful majesties, Arthur proclaimed himself King by way of his duel with Vortigern. Then, before the people had the chance to rush him, he declared Garis the lord of the land, a proxy-ruler to Camelot's throne. The people froze and began the mutter, recognizing at least one, possibly two, of their precious ap Gwyar boys.

Arthur explained that his business in Camelot would keep him away from Westmorland and that Garis would be in charge of all day to day affairs, including law enforcement. Garis winked at the populace at that. It took a few moments to sink in before the entire castle broke out in cheers. Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin were celebrated out of the half castle and a parade formed to take them to the border. Arthur ignored the shaped-ember sparklers of magic he saw joining the festivities out of the corner of his eye, although he did freeze up at them. Merlin couldn't stop grinning, especially when he noticed Gwaine bartering with a man for a collection of glowing potion bottles that he secreted into his pack when he was sure Arthur wasn't looking.

Arthur caught Garis' arm before they left the castle proper. "One more thing," he said. "The cup you stole from us. Where is it?"

Garis shrugged. "I get monthly reports from the men guarding it. I expect the next one in a week."

"Yes, but it was here. Where do you think they would go?"

Garis slowly shook his head. "No, my friends would never come here."

The king frowned. "Merlin's got people watching for them. They said your friends came here."

"No, I expressly told my friends I didn't want them coming here. I knew what Vortigern was capable of. I didn't want them getting into trouble. They swore to me they would stay far away from Westmorland. Merlin's people must have been mistaken."

Arthur's face twisted and he turned to glare at his servant. "Yes, I suppose they must have. I'll have to have a _talk _with Merlin about leading me on this…_wild goose chase, _now."

Garis laughed. "I don't know. I'd say _some _good has come out of all this, wouldn't you?"

Arthur growled and released his proxy's arm amid another bout of laughter. He allowed the parade of people to guide him toward Merlin and Gwaine, who was sticking something that looked suspiciously like a magical potion into his bag. Soon the denizens of Camelot would be on their way home once more.

* * *

**Back to almost normal sized, which I'm sure you all hate. One chapter left and the reconciliations after-expect them up by the end of this week!**


	35. Freya and Friends 11

"Oomph—_Aithusa_!"

Back at Camelot, on the shores of the Lake of Avalon, Merlin found himself on his back in the dirt with a small but _heavy _white dragon sitting on his stomach. The White cooed and flicked his tail, affectionately pressing his head into Merlin's chest. The warlock felt like he'd had all the wind knocked out of him.

Kilgarrah watched nearby, laying on the ground, his front claws—hands?—paws?—folded gracefully in front of him. He chuckled. "_Now _who's getting on whose nerves? I _told _you he was irritating."

"He's—only—a—baby!" Merlin gasped, patting Aithusa on the head. With some difficulty he pushed the dragon off and sat up, clutching his stomach and wheezing. "Sweet Camelot, Kilgarrah, what have you been _feeding _him?"

"…Sweet…Camelot?" the dragon asked.

Merlin shrugged. "Sir Leon's idea. It just kind of stuck."

Aithusa grabbed Merlin's boot and started to chew, with Merlin's foot still inside. Merlin squealed and yanked the limb out of the dragon's reach. "Aithusa!" The dragon ducked, thoroughly shamed, before turning around to pounce on a rock, clearly not too put out. Merlin laughed despite himself. "When will he start to talk?"

The Red shrugged. "A year, maybe more. You'll be the second to know when he says his first word." Was it Merlin's imagination, or did Kilgarrah actually sound a little _excited _at the prospect? And was that _fondness_ in his eye when he looked to the little White?

Before he could ask, a shimmering mist stretched out over the lake. All heads turned that way as Freya Vivienne rose out of the waters and walked toward the bank, looking a bit more solid than she had the last time they'd met. Merlin stood and stepped forward to meet her. She smiled, cupping his face with her hands, the smile slipping when she saw the healing wound on the side of his neck. "You did well, my love," she said, touching her wet forehead to his. Merlin grinned.

She stepped away, still holding Merlin's hand, and turned to the dragons. Kilgarrah bowed his head. "My Lady," he said, a little stiffly.

"Sir Dragon," she said, equally formal, while Aithusa pranced toward her and rubbed against her knees.

Merlin glanced between the two. "…I'm sorry, do you two know each other?"

"We've had a few…discussions," Freya said with a frown.

Kilgarrah scoffed and shook his great head. "The Lady of the Lake does not believe in your destiny, young warlock."

"What? What's that mean?"

Freya snorted, sounding so much like Kilgarrah that Aithusa looked up at her in alarm. "I don't believe in anyone's destiny. It's such a wonky idea, destiny. Some old men hundreds of years ago saying that so and so is going to do such and such. Why does that set it in stone? They never met the person, and never will meet him, so what do they know? What business is it of theirs, anyway? I believe that you and Arthur will unite the land of Albion, Merlin, but I believe it because I've been watching you and I think that's what you two _want_ to do, not because of any prophecy or destiny or any such balderdash."

Kilgarrah rolled his eyes, something Merlin had never expected to see. "Destiny doesn't care if you believe in it or not, My Lady Vivienne. Avalon has a role to play in Albion's fate, and as Avalon's queen, so do _you." _

"Mmm, if you say so." She turned toward Merlin. "Never argue with dragons. They always think they're right."

"Oh, I know," Merlin said, nodding, still a little stunned about this particular turn of events. "But…you're a druid, right?

"Oh, and that means _all druids _agree with what their elders say, does it? Come on, now. We've got a door to open." Freya flipped her hair out of her face and stood up straighter, looking out across the lake. "I wish to speak with the Sidhe Elders regarding a certain position I _already maintain?_"

It took a couple of seconds, but soon the little blue sidhe were zipping through the air. Freya's eyes flashed gold and time slowed down. The familiar blue man in brown hovered in front of them, glaring at Freya. "…Yes, Lady?"

"Oh, are you going to be civil now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. Now that I've brought Emrys and Kilgarrah, you're ready to play nice, is that it?"

Merlin shuffled his feet. "They did sort of try to kill me once."

The man growled. "We did not know who you are at the time…my lord Emrys." The sidhe gritted his teeth and bowed. "As for…'_playing nice,' _Lady Vivienne, we already told you. The Sidhe have their own eldership. We do not need the authority of a Lake Lady."

Kilgarrah laughed, and Freya shook her head. Merlin looked back and forth between the three of them, feeling somewhat out of his element. "Avalon will _always _need a Lake Lady," Kilgarrah said. "The state at which it finds itself in now is proof of that. How long since the mighty Sidhe Eldership fit Nimueh to your own purposes instead of the other way around, as it should have been? How long since you let the wild magics loose, _by accident, _and corrupted the Old Religion? How _crowded _have your cities become since you indirectly caused Uther's Purge and shut the Good Folk in Avalon _for their own protection?_"

"I seem to remember _you _supporting the decision to close Avalon's doors, Kilgarrah," the man said.

"After you'd already ruined everything, yes. And I seem to recall you _shutting the dragons out._"

"Boys," Freya snapped, raising her hand. "That's enough. If you truly believe in this whole Once and Future Albion business then you will admit that the time for free magic will soon be upon us and I intend to _right _things before then. I expect the Sidhe Eldership to submit to _my _authority as the Lady of the Lake, as is right, and as has been done for hundreds of years before us. It is time to reign in the wild magics and put a _stop _to the lawlessness in Avalon. What says the sidhe?"

The man growled again and flew off. The sidhe all met in a big bunch in the center of the lake, talking things out—or shouting them, was more like. When the man flew back, he bore the defeated eyes of one who has been utterly shamed by a browbeating wife—although in this case, it was probably a browbeating concil. "The sidhe say yes, we will…serve you, in our old capacity. We relinquish our hold over Avalon."

Freya nodded. "Then it is time to open the gates once more."

"Do you have the heart of a human prince?"

"…Did you not see the _dragon _standing behind me_?_" she said with a scoff. "We have no _need _of something as primal and bloodthirsty as a human heart. We shall open it in the noble ways rather than the old ones. Kilgarrah and I have already done all the necessary rituals and spells and things. We just need to finish up."

The man grinned, showing his teeth. "You'll still need a blood sacrifice."

"Yes, well, that's what Emrys is for."

"_What?" _Merlin squeaked. "No one said anything about a blood sacrifice!"

Kilgarrah shook his head. "Not like Vortigern's. We're not _stupid_. It's a _pinprick, _young warlock; don't _whine._"

"Well?" Freya asked, not hearing the conversation behind her. "Do the sidhe allow it?"

"Do we have a choice?"

"Not really, no." She smiled, lifting her head and raising her arms. "By the approval of the sidhe of Avalon!" she shouted toward the water. Then she took Merlin's hand once more. She gave him an apologetic look and shook her other hand. A dagger appeared in it. Merlin shook his head, blinking in disbelief. "Keeper of Arms, I told you," she said. Then she pricked Merlin's finger with the point of the dagger. A single drop of blood welled onto the blade and she flicked it into the water. "By the blood of a denizen of Avalon!" she yelled.

"But I'm not a denizen of Avalon," Merlin hissed.

She nodded. "Yes you are. All creatures of magic are denizens of Avalon. It's home. When I say so, send a blast of magic across the lake, love." She turned to Kilgarrah. "By the fires of a dragon born in Avalon!"

Kilgarrah roared and sprayed fire over the water. It _liquefied _in the air and fell like burning rain into the lake.

"And by the magic that binds the Island in place, let the gates to Avalon be opened again! _Now, _Merlin!"

Waves of magic shot from Freya, Kilgarrah, and Merlin at the same time. The very _air _rippled with power and a door appeared. It looked like the rip in the veil between the worlds that Lancelot had walked through and for a minute Merlin was stricken with fear. Then he just laughed. This "rip" radiated _light, _not darkness, and the release of magic felt _amazing. _For a moment he thought he _could _see an island floating in the middle of the rip. Then the rip repaired itself. There was a sound, like thunder, and Merlin's ears popped.

Then all was normal, the lake peaceful and serene. Even the sidhe were out of sight again.

Behind them, Aithusa whimpered. Kilgarrah laughed. "Oh, I'd _forgotten _what it felt like to have Avalon's support," he said, cracking his big scaly neck. "I feel better than I have in _years." _

"Freya?" Merlin asked, squeezing her hand. "Does this mean you're completely alive again?"

She looked at him and grinned. "Yes, although I'll still be tied to the lake. But you can come and see me whenever you like, and I'll visit often when Arthur lifts the ban on magic. Merlin, you need to understand—opening the gates of Avalon did a lot more than you know. There'll be more bad creatures in the world, like lamias and bogles and corrigans and deurgar and things. The Good Folk will be free to come and go as they please once more, as well."

"The Good Folk?"

"Yes, the vilia and their kith, the Asrai, and the barguests, feeorin, brownmen, and brownies. They've been stuck in Avalon while the doors were closed, but they're open now, and they're free. As well as the things like will-o'-the-wisps and cu siths and elves and bauchan, who are sometimes bad and sometimes good. You'll have to be watchful for the creatures of magic. They're subtle for the most part, and can look after themselves, but still."

"How will I know when I've found one?" Merlin asked, frowning.

"Oh, you'll know," said Kilgarrah with a chuckle. "They'll call to your magic. If not, you should be able to identify them by smell."

"_Smell?" _

"Don't _tease,_" Freya said, wrinkling her nose and slapping Kilgarrah's leg.

"All Ladies of Avalon choose a symbol for the Island under their rule," Kilgarrah explained. "Nimueh's, for instance, was a drop of blood, and more bad came of it than good. Freya chose something else, something she considered completely good."

"Strawberries?" Merlin guessed, then sniffed the air. It did smell fruity, but fresh rather than sweet…

Freya blushed. "I tried strawberries, but it didn't fit. I was afraid I'd get sick of them, anyway, so I picked something a little simpler."

Merlin sniffed again. "…Apples," he said with a tiny smile. "I smell _apples._"

"An apple tree," Kilgarrah said. "I _tried _to get her to choose something that wouldn't _reek, _but she was adamant. Now Avalon will be filled with trees that blossom and bear fruit at the same time and _everything's _going to smell like apples."

She tossed her dagger into the lake, wafting the light scent toward Merlin. "There's nothing bad about an apple tree," she said, blushing again. "It gives you shade and beauty and fruit, and when the tree dies, apple wood is good for building things."

"Not sure that I like it," Merlin said, then breathed in again. "…but I think it might grow on me."

Freya smiled and kissed him. Aithusa groaned and hid his eyes. For the first time in what felt like a long time, Merlin laughed.

The scent of apple blossoms clung to him as he headed back toward Camelot, and Arthur, and destiny—whether he believed in it or not.


	36. Reconciliations: And Lots Of Them

Okay. *takes a deep breath*

Nimueh, or Nimue, was the Lady of the Lake in most stories, although she is later and sometimes mysteriously replaced by Vivien/Vivian, or, rarely, Vivienne. And when I say later replaced, I mean both by later storytellers _and _later in the same legend. Sometimes without any warning. One part will be "Nimue, the Lady of the Lake" and the next one may be "Vivien, the Lady of the Lake." Sometimes there's an explanation, sometimes it's all just reader speculation.

Vivienne is usually the woman who seduced Merlin, learned his secrets, and then locked him (depending on the story) either inside a tree, under a tree (type of tree in both instances vary, but it's usually hawthorn), inside a crystal cave, or in a small hill. Sometimes she's evil, sometimes she's foolish, and sometimes everything is mutual, as the "imprisonment" allows Merlin's power to recharge and gives him a chance to wait for snoozing Arthur to wake.

Avalon, sometimes called the Island of Apples, is a mystical floating island. All of Arthur's swords (in most legends, he owned two or three enchanted swords throughout his lifetime, although Excalibur was the most famous) were forged in Avalon by magical or fairy smiths. All members of Avalon's court love Arthur (or are in love with Arthur) and spend their lives helping him. Avalon is the place where Arthur goes to either be buried or to sleep at the end of the story, and afterward the Island pretty much vanishes in further efforts to keep Arthur safe. In some cases the island was established specifically to aid Arthur and princes like him. It is wholly and completely dedicated to Arthur's service. (This is the thing that bothers me most about the show: if Avalon is corrupt, what other choice do they have but to _actually kill _Arthur at the end of the story, and give us another crazy-sad lake burial scene?)

Vortigern was king of Wales, back when Uther was only in charge of his older brother's armies. He was a little on the crazy side (Vortigern, that is, although Uther of legend was a bit mad as well) and insisted he build his castle in a certain place, but the castle always fell down. Some soothsayers said the land was cursed. Some soothsayers said it was being built on water. All said "find a boy without a mortal father and kill him. Mix his blood with the mortar, and the castle would stand." Then along came Merlin, who informed Vortigern that his castle was built over the burial ground of two dragons, a red dragon and a white dragon, who were fighting all the time. Only when the fight was over would his castle stand, and by then it would be too late. See, the Red Dragon was Wales and the White Dragon was England, as Uther was coming to wage war on Wales. If the Red Dragon won the fight, we'd be reading about Vortigern's son, but if the White Dragon won, which It did, then Uther would conquer Wales and his big brother Ambrosius would become king of England.

Vortigern didn't like that answer, so he asked Merlin who his parents were and Merlin told him. Most of the time Merlin's mother is either a princess, a nun, or a common woman, who was mysteriously impregnated by either the devil, a Lordly Fairy, or a dragon. Vortigern _did _like that answer, so he slated Merlin for sacrifice. That night the dragons, who really were down there, burst out from under the castle, destroying it beyond repair, in order to continue their fight in the air. The White Dragon killed the Red, rescued Merlin, and flew him to Uther and Ambrosius' encampment where he later became Uther's right hand man.

Uther became Uther Pendragon, King of England shortly after his brother's death, when a dragon-shaped comet flew across the sky. He held court at Pendragon Castle, or sometimes Kirksbury Castle, which some say was around Cumbria,(wherever that is; I'm no ancient geographical expert) and some say around Westmorland and some say around London. Pendragon means "Son of the Dragon," just in case you didn't know. Which is crazy ironic, in the context of the show.

Artos means "Bear" in Latin, and rumor has it the _real _King Arthur (not that stupid movie, but the real thing, like from my Brit Lit class and all the things I've read about Arthur the Warlord) was a Roman-trained Briton called either Arthur or Artos who stopped the Saxons from overrunning England for fifty years, until he died. After which the Saxons invaded and pretty much ran the place until the Normans came along, but that's beside the point. Arthur's also called the Bear-Lord and the Bear-King in some legends. Much like the lovely phrases "half-castle," "court magician," and "sweet Camelot," I love the sound, feel, and imagery of the words _bear-king, _and it will likely crop up again.

The list of "the Good Folk" toward the end is a list of different types of fairies from a variety of places who do a variety of things. I love playing with fairies and thought it was a shame the show doesn't play with them more. I figured not every magical being in Albion could be evil, so other than the unicorns, where on earth are the good ones? And it can't hurt to leave an opening, room to play in a later story, right?

For anyone interested, the Asrai are women that melt into a pool of water when exposed to sunlight. Barguests and Cu Siths are both death omen dogs, but that doesn't mean they're bad. Barguests lead howling marches when someone important dies and Cu Siths are glowing green dogs that appear when someone is near death. Brownies keep house for people they like in exchange for treats like milk, spirits, or cake, but don't insult them or they can make your life quite miserable, and don't feed them blood or they turn into bogarts. Feeorins love to dance and often warn humans of misfortunes to come. Will-o'-the-wisps are mysterious lights that sometimes guide lost humans to safety and sometimes lead humans astray. Deurgar like to trick people into dying. Lamias you already know about—sneaky little tie-in for me, there. Bogles are mostly a generic name for nasty fairies. Corrigans are like ghosts—they remind me a bit of the Dorocha, actually. Brownmen are an adapted Brown Man for me, protectors of nature. The bauchan are like the goblin from Goblin's Gold, only their tricks are funnier, not as nasty, much more subtle, and sometimes helpful. As for the elves? Think people, only not quite. I do intend to play with them, after _Secrets _is finished.

I figured Westmorland would be a nice substitute for Wales—if England gets called Albion, I'm assuming there is no Wales, or has a different name I'm too stupid to pick up on. They keep saying five kingdoms a lot, after all, but I can only name four and have pretty much wrecked that in this story—more on that later, actually. I also included Kilgarrah talking to Arthur about being the Once and Future King because it is a very cryptic, powerful, and abstract statement…yet when Merlin says it to Arthur at the end of Season Four, Arthur doesn't even _blink. _My theory? He's heard it somewhere before. Therefore…canon! Not really, but a girl can dream.

Also, I switched places for the Red Dragon and the White Dragon for three reasons. 1, red is a Camelot color, 2, I can't tie a white dragon to Albion when there is not an Albion yet, and 3, can you imagine little Aithusa really defeating Kilgarrah? Really? Although I think maybe I read one story where Red was England and White was Wales, but I can't remember how old it was. It just sounds too silly to be right. The White Dragon of Wales. Or White Dwagon of Wales, as it turns into when you it out loud. Meh.

Next up: Guinevere! And Elyan, too, by extension. And a certain circular eating surface. Hope you're not tired of obscure royalty yet.


	37. Guinevere 1

**On to Guinevere, and back to our regular four-a-day schedule! Although why I give you guys four chapters a day, I'll never know...**

**This set will take place in a much more compressed time period-a course of hours, maybe a day, rather than the days and weeks of the previous sets. Closer perhaps to the time flow of Gwaine's secret. And don't expect to see dear Gwen until the very end. And as always, enjoy!**

* * *

Although explaining the situation while hiding the whole magical sanctuary bit was another nightmare all its own, Arthur learned more on that one trip into Westmorland than he ever cared to learn, and gained more than he expected, too. Westmorland became a province of Camelot and Prince Garis ap Gwyar of Orkney became its lord—and King Lot still warred against Camelot. Although that already petty war fell flat when Garis declared that his loyalty lay with Arthur. The border towns quickly learned that Orkney's armies' loyalties lay with Garis, and rather than fighting, the invading armies struck up an unlikely friendship with the townsfolk. An Orkney army in Camelot meant a week of feasting, bartering, displays of craftsmanship, lessons in self-defense, irate fathers locking their daughters indoors, and general merrymaking, followed by the army limping home to report false victories and losses to a powerless king and irate fathers going to Arthur to complain. Soon the only person truly worried about war with Orkney was Agravaine.

Time passed. Arthur made his first major mistake as a king by killing Carleon's ruler, then ended the resulting war with no bloodshed. His people loved him more than ever. Merlin was injured, then vanished, then returned, then spent two days in the tavern, but didn't seem to have a single hangover.

Gaius was abducted. Gwaine began to doubt Agravaine's loyalties. Arthur was thoroughly humiliated by the whole business, although the speech Gaius gave him about people who did things for him when he didn't know about it didn't surprise him nearly as much as it should have. He thought back to the Great Dragon, declaring its loyalty, and to the dead Fisher King, swearing that magic loved him, and on all the land that seemed to come to him. It seemed obvious _something _was looking out for him.

The knights fought a lamia and survived, and Gwen saved Merlin's life. Merlin had smelled _rotten _apples and bitter wood smoke on the lamia from the first, although it hadn't clicked until later on. And it had been very hard to smell, too. Identifying magicals by their scent was the most sure method, but perhaps not the most practical, since the smell was so faint. He'd been rather interested in what other creatures of magic he would run into now that Avalon was open again—the good and the bad. Having met his first one face to face, however, he decided he'd just as soon _not _meet another.

And then Lancelot had returned, and it was the very light, even-harder-to-smell scent of rotten apples hanging around the knight that told Merlin from the beginning not all was as it seemed.

And then he'd kissed Gwen.

No one knew all the details, and as Gwen had been banished shortly afterward, no one was in much of a position to ask. Merlin suffered perhaps more than Arthur, as he'd lost his two oldest friends (one all over again) in just a matter of days. Elyan was _furious, _but he wasn't sure who at—Arthur for banishing his sister before properly hearing her side, Gwen for kissing Lancelot, or Lancelot for coming back at all. He couldn't take that anger out on anyone but Arthur, and he couldn't even do that properly as the king looked like a kicked puppy every time someone brought Gwen up. It was very hard to be mad at a kicked puppy.

Then came that business with the drippy druid boy. Elyan was possessed, then saved, and Arthur repeated the gesture he'd made with Westmorland and all but said the druids were free in Camelot once more. All thoughts of Gwen were driven from nearly everyone's mind.

Until the caravans came, a few weeks later.

For one wild moment, Merlin thought Garis had sent his friends to Camelot to give them the Cup of Life. Then they saw the unfamiliar standard on the side of the wagons. No one had ever seen it before—no one except Elyan, who took one look and went to his chambers and locked the door behind him.

That was curious. The other Round Table men, minus Arthur who was in too dark a funk to care, took it upon themselves to figure out just who was coming to town, what their connection to Elyan was, and if any fun could be had of the whole business.


	38. Guinevere 2

"It looks like an advance party," Leon said. He and Gwaine were leaning out of one window on the third floor of the castle. Merlin and Percival were leaning out of the one next to it. All were squinting toward the distant wagons in anticipation. "Like what one of the lords would send out."

"Perhaps," said Merlin. "But I don't recognize that standard, so it can't be someone who's been to Camelot in the last five years."

"I don't recognize it either," Leon admitted.

"Neither do I," said Gwaine with a frown. "So not only is it a lord who's not been to Camelot _or _Old Orkney; It's also a lord I've never run into while rambling those seven years."

Percival grunted and shook his head. "My village was on the way to Cenred's castle and I never saw that standard in Mercia either. Which, of course, is New Orkney now."

They watched as one of the flaps went up on one caravan and a collection of motley-dressed men tumbled out into the street and began jumping around. "Oh, so they're acrobats," Merlin said, the delight obvious in his voice. "The standard must be their troupe's. I love watching acrobats. Why d'you suppose they came?"

Leon shook his head. "They're acrobats with a lot of heavy security, then. That wagon, without any cover? It's full of swordsmen."

"So we're back to an advance party theory?" Gwaine asked.

"No," Leon said, elbowing him. "And advance party wouldn't bring acrobats. They expect to be entertained here. They don't bring their own entertainment. Besides, where does it look like they're going?"

"To the castle," said Percival.

Merlin laughed lightly and shook his head. "They're taking an awfully roundabout way."

"Maybe they want to swing by the tavern?"

"Not everything is about the tavern, Gwaine," Leon said, frowning at his friend.

"They already passed the tavern," said Merlin.

The tumblers somersaulted their way behind the wagon of armed men, waving to the applauding crowd who had assembled to watch. "Maybe they're an acting troupe?" Gwaine suggested.

"And acting troupes have armed guards?" Percival said, jerking his thumb toward the back wagon. The motion jostled Merlin, who'd leaned further out the window. He lost his balance and fell face first onto the roof. With a shout, the other three reached for him and caught him by his feet. Gwaine and Leon waited for Percival to get a better hold on the servant before letting go. Percival pulled him back inside with a quiet laugh.

"Nice one, Merlin," Gwaine said. "Very graceful."

"Oh, shut up," Merlin grumbled, dusting himself off.

The commotion caused them to miss the opening of another wagon and the appearance of a tall man with a crown gracing his short-cropped head. "Look, look, look," Leon said, pointing to him. "A Lord of Misrule, perhaps? Although once again, why would a troupe of actors and jesters need armed men? And why come to Camelot now? Unless they missed the canceling of the wedding two months back. News does travel slowly."

Gwaine straightened and nodded to the caravan behind the man. "I don't think they're all actors and jesters. Those two men behind his majesty? In the purple capes? They look like knights, and I think they just jumped out of that wagon behind him."

Percival squinted down. "That crown glints like real gold."

"Yeah, you're right. A bit fine for a Lord of Misrule." Gwaine said with a nod.

"Guards, knights, tumblers, and someone with a crown," Merlin said.

Leon snorted. "We're back to advance party again, aren't we?"

"But _whose _advance party?" Percival insisted. "And why did Elyan run away?"

"Elyan was a wanderer before he came to Camelot. Perhaps he stumbled into this man's country at some point and had a disagreement?" Merlin said.

"There's no one in the five kingdoms that has that standard, and no one who has purple as a color," Leon said, shaking his head.

"Well, what about one of the kingdoms _not _listed in the five kingdoms?" Gwaine asked.

"True," Merlin added. "There's a ton of kingdoms too small to be considered important by those five big kings. Think about Westmorland. Or Orkney, before Lot got greedy and Orkney got huge. There're lots of kingdoms in the northlands."

"None that use purple," Gwaine said. "It's a sissy color up north. They all use grays and dark reds and greens."

"Percival, what did Munsalvaesche used to use?" Leon asked.

Percival closed his eyes for a moment. "Gold," he said, nodding and looking down again. "Gold and light blue."

"So who uses purple?" Gwaine asked.

Leon frowned. "They've got to go to the castle. A party that large has to speak with Arthur before they're allowed to stay. But they can stay within the walls for up to a day before doing that."

Merlin nodded. "…I know someone who would know who they are," he said with a small grin. "Anyone fancy a trip to the library?" He turned and took off down the hallway.

Percival and Leon looked at each other and followed. Gwaine made a nasty face, but ran after them.


	39. Guinevere 3

Merlin didn't waste any time. He and the knights behind him went straight to Geoffrey of Monmouth. "Hello, we—"

"Oh no, let me guess," said Geoffrey, looking at Merlin with a deep uneasiness. "You're looking for something for Gaius again?"

Merlin closed his mouth and shook his head. "No, we just—"

"Something about the old legends again, then? Or perhaps another heraldry?"

"Well, maybe, but what we'd really like is to just ask you a few questions."

Geoffrey frowned and the servant and the three knights standing awkwardly behind him. Gwaine blew a layer of dust off the top of a shelf of books, then coughed at the cloud of dust blowing back into his face. Percival rocked back and forth on his heels until he nearly lost his balance and fell into a book shelf. He held it steady before anything could fall. Leon looked more comfortable, but just barely; he was gazing sideways, slightly open-mouthed, at the stack of books on the Court Genealogist's desk, trying to read their titles. Merlin looked deceptively innocent. He always looked like that, and every time he came into the library, trouble followed. Usually in the form of a mess that Geoffrey would have to clean up. "…What kinds of questions?"

Merlin smiled and leaned on Geoffrey's desk. "There's a bunch of caravans in town. There are knights, tumblers, armed guards, and we saw a man wearing a crown. We don't know who he is, but we know one of his colors is purple, and his standard has at least one star. We haven't seen it close up yet."

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "And your questions is?"

"…Who is he?" Merlin asked. He'd thought the question was obvious.

Geoffrey thought for a few moments. "…I don't know if I've ever heard of anyone using purple," he said. "Hold on, let me check some books." He tottered his way down an aisle of shelves. The Table men looked at each other, shrugged, and followed after him.

The librarian soon found what he wanted. He took a nice thick book from a shelf, older than the one he's shown Merlin when he'd forged Lancelot's credentials, and rifled through it with the Table men standing over him. "…no….no…no," he said as he flipped through the pages. "…Hold on." He replaced that book and found another, which looked old, but barely touched. "…no…no…here we are." He pointed at a purple and white standard. "No, that doesn't have a star…" He flipped a few more pages. "How about that one?"

The knights looked at the purple and gold shield on the page. The standard was some kind of cat and a star. "…I don't think that was it," Leon said. "The purple was darker than that."

Geoffrey sighed and turned some more pages. "This one?" he asked, stopping at a red and purple shield with a single star.

"Naw," said Gwaine, shaking his head. "The star was smaller than that."

"I thought you said you did not get a good look," Geoffrey asked tersely, flipping through the book some more.

"Wait," said Percival as he passed a page with a purple shield on it.

"…Yeah," said Gwaine. "Yeah, I think that was it.

Geoffrey looked down and shook his head, chuckling. "That's impossible. This is the crest of the kingdom of Cameliard, and it does not exist anymore."


	40. Guinevere 4

"In fact," the genealogist continued, "It has not existed since the days of Uther's great-great-_great_ grandfather, long before there was ever a Camelot."

Merlin studied the standard. It was a rich purple with two silver stars and a crescent moon beneath them. "No, I think they're right. It did look a lot like that."

The man chewed his lip in thought, looking at the shield. "…It may be possible, though I don't know why it would come here…" he said. "Cameliard was a country to the west, along the coast. It was a wealthy country, but small, and did not have the men to defend itself. Carleon…only I am not even sure if it was Carleon at the time. Anyway, it declared war on Cameliard. There was no hope for a victory in the coming battle."

"So Cameliard was destroyed by Carleon?" Gwaine asked. "Or whatever Carleon was before it was Carleon?"

"No," said Geoffrey, shaking his head. "It wasn't. Unless a conquering of an empty land counts as destruction. I don't even remember the name of the king of Cameliard at the time, but he was very clever and very wise and did not wish to see his people come into harm. So he gave the command that everyone was to move and the whole kingdom just…up and left."

"What?" the men asked at once, confused and a little surprised.

"It's true. When the armies swept into the country, they expected an easy victory and instead found not a single person. They had to cross nearly the entire span of the land before they ran into the people of Cameliard again. The people were driven to the coast and across the sea."

"But," asked Leon, his brow furrowed. "I don't understand. Why not fight to defend your land instead of just…running away?"

"The people of Cameliard were very skilled in everything they did," Geoffrey explained. "Historical record says that much of Cameliard's wealth came from the work of its people, not from the work of the land. In books, the actions of Cameliard's king are respected and admired rather than seen as an act of cowardice. In fact, I think the king is quoted in one book…" He scratched his head. "Something similar to, 'Cameliard is her people; what matter is the land?' …Something like that. And it apparently turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to them."

"What do you mean?" asked Percival.

"Without the _burden _of being tied to a place, the people of Cameliard flourished. They made things, built things, discovered things...and multiplied. There are now more of them than ever, as they lose and gain many at almost every place they make camp. They stayed across the sea for some time, and when they decided to come back, they built themselves ships and sailed back across the channel. They do the same when they wish to leave."

Merlin frowned. "I thought you said Cameliard didn't exist anymore," Merlin asked.

Geoffrey shook his head. "It doesn't. Not under that name, at least. It still calls itself Cameliard, but most all other countries know it as the Wandering Court."

"Wandering Court?" Leon asked sharply. "I remember a small part of the Wandering Court stopping at Camelot when Ygraine was carrying Arthur. It was just a few people, and they didn't use the standard."

"Yes. It was the only time the Court ever came to Camelot. Even then, Uther only tolerated the Court, never acknowledging it as an actual country, much less as Cameliard. He threw them out after Arthur was born and he began his Purge. He viewed the Court with the utmost suspicion, seeing them as a strange mixture of druid, beggar, and refugee. He swore that if the Court returned, it would mean war."

"…So why are they back now," Gwaine asked.

"…And what's the story between them and Elyan?" Merlin finished.

* * *

**And back to our regular length, too, forgot to mention that. Til next time!**


	41. Guinevere 5

The four of them went to the king's chambers next, and found Arthur staring at the caravans out of his window, stroking his chin in thought. He turned in surprise when his doors burst open, and his face was quite comical when he saw his four friends. "Oh," he said, eyes scrunching. "I was expecting Agravaine. What are you lot doing here?"

"We came to ask you if you knew anything about—" Merlin began.

"The caravans?" Arthur interrupted. "I'm not sure. I think it may be a group of people my father used to tell me stories about—"

"The Wandering Court?" Gwaine asked.

"How'd you know?"

Leon glanced out the window before looking back at his king. "Because it _is _the Wandering Court, sire. We've just been to see Geoffrey. The standards on the wagons match the standard of Cameliard."

Arthur sighed and turned back to the window.

"…Agravaine?" Percival asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"My father declared war if the Wandering Court should ever return," Arthur began, "and my uncle will doubtless expect me to stand by that. I don't think I can do it, though. They haven't done anything wrong. I don't even know who they are."

Gwaine cut in before anyone else could stop him. "There's something about Elyan."

Arthur's eyes flickered dark for a second and he sighed heavily. "What, again?"

"It's something to do with the Court," Merlin said. "He saw the standard and ran to his room. He hasn't come out since."

The king groaned and glared at the ceiling. "If he's crossed someone—"

"We don't know. He's not speaking to us," Gwaine said, looking a little hurt.

"Will you declare war?" Percival asked.

Arthur turned back toward them, looking a little lost. "…I don't know," he admitted. "Probably not. I don't know why they've come back after all this time. I don't know what their intentions are, or how many people they've got with them. This large company could be everyone…"

"…Or they could have their entire country amassed outside the border," Leon said, nodding.

"And this business with Elyan…" the king added and sighed again. "The poor man's been through enough already. I hope this isn't someone he's made angry at some point or another. Enter," he called when someone knocked on his door.

Agravaine came in and walked straight into Percival, as the group hadn't moved from the doorway yet. "Er, excuse me," he said, not willing to admit that the big man intimidated him a little. The group moved aside to let him pass, although Merlin and Gwaine shot him dark looks as he went by. "Arthur, the Wandering Court has returned."

Annoyance flickered into Arthur's eyes. "Yes, Uncle, I am quite aware of that."

"Their king is at the castle gates right now. The guards are detaining him. He says he wants to speak with you, but he won't say what about."

"He probably just wants permission to keep his party within the city walls," Leon suggested, ignoring the glare Agravaine shot him when he spoke up.

Arthur dropped his hands down to his sides, then to his hips. He looked at the floor for a few seconds, thinking. "I will see him in the council chambers," he said thoughtfully, addressing the floor rather than his uncle. "I don't want a large audience. Just you five and perhaps another council member or two." He looked at Leon. "And can you send someone to tell Elyan I want to talk to him later?"

Leon nodded. "Yes, sire."

"Good." Arthur smiled slightly and started for the door. "Well, come on. We've got a king to see."


	42. Guinevere 6

Arthur stood on the dais in front of his throne as the doors opened to allow the crowned man entrance into the council chambers. The knights, Merlin, Agravaine, and Geoffrey (who was _dying _to catch a glimpse of a member of the Wandering Court of Cameliard and would not have missed the meeting for the _world_) were standing around him in what they hoped were relaxed stances. Most of them succeeded, although Percival, Curiosity that he was, could not stop from tapping one foot and beating a steady rhythm on his crossed arms with restless fingers.

The man was smiling, at least, beaming from ear to ear. That was a promising sign. And his eyes were _unnaturally _pretty…and sort of familiar…

"Greetings, King Arthur Pendragon, and hail!" the man said, his voice pleasant, but booming. "I am Leodegrance, King of Cameliard, and I am sorry we have not had the pleasure of making each other's acquaintances before now." He bowed, as one king would bow to another.

"Indeed," Arthur said, a smile slipping onto his face despite himself. This Leodegrance character seemed likable enough. "…Although I had to admit my own surprise when I learned of your arrival."

"Understandable," Leodegrance said. His grin widened and his eyebrows twitched as if he were sharing a joke between them. Merlin had to fight back a grin of his own.

"…Good king, I hate to sound unwelcoming, but my father did all but banish you, last time your Court came to Camelot…" Arthur began.

The Wanderer held up a hand. "Your good father, may he rest in peace, never understood our people, young Pendragon," he said. "Not that we really blame him. Most people cannot understand us. He did not respect Cameliard as its own country, which is a bit harsh and insulting, we must admit. We have heard that you were more open than that, and your address of me as _king _proves it. If you wish us to leave, we will go…"

"Don't be so hasty. I am happy to accept Cameliard," Arthur said, ignoring Agravaine's grunt. "As long as none of your people have magic—"

"I have to say I honestly don't know if any of them do or not," Leodegrance said, surprising everyone a great deal. "I know _I _don't, but it really doesn't matter to me whether anyone else does. Would it be enough if I told them _if _they had magic, they were not to use it within the bounds of Camelot?"

Arthur pretended to consider this. After Westmorland and the druids, he could hardly say no. "That would be just fine, my lord. Your people are welcome here, as long as they do not cause any trouble."

The king chuckled. "Call me Leodegrance, please, young Pendragon. I do not care for all that much formality."

"Leodegrance, then. …If it is not too forward of me, then..." Arthur glanced at Merlin, then at each of his knights (frowning at Percival's antsiness) before turning back to the grinning king and chuckling a little himself. "We are all very curious as to why you chose to come back to Camelot at all, when there was every chance that I _would_ declare war on your return."

Leodegrance's practically _shook _with happiness. "Oh, I'd have risked it to come. Started on the way as soon as we heard. I _had _to see the wedding…though I regret we had some delay and we've probably missed it by now."

Arthur and everyone around him froze. "…The…wedding?" Arthur asked, every muscle tense.

"Oh, yes. Wouldn't have missed it for anything. It's not every day your only niece gets married, after all."

The tension in the room _tripled. _The lazy listener could have heard a pin drop, which means Gwaine almost silent "Oh, _that's _awkward_," _echoed around the room like a shout. The smile fell off of Leodegrance's face, but before anyone could say or do anything else, Elyan walked into the room.

And Elyan had Leodegrance's pretty, almost feminine eyes.


	43. Guinevere 7

"Elyan!" Leodegrance cried, smiling again. He ran toward him, first cupping the knight's face, then embracing him. "Elyan, how _wonderful _it is to see you again! We've very much missed you since you left our number!"

"Uncle Leodegrance," Elyan said, nodding a little stiffly. He was smiling, but only just.

Arthur took a short breath as if to speak, then hesitated. "…Elyan and Guinevere are your family?" he asked, looking almost afraid to hear the answer.

Leodegrance turned back to the king. "Oh, yes. Didn't you know? But then, you wouldn't, would you? Not with your father condemning us."

"..All right. Explain. Now, please."

Elyan sighed and shook his head. Leodegrance looked between them in a little confusion. "…Guinevere didn't tell you after your father's death?" he asked, a frown forming. "…You never asked about their mother? You never wondered why a blacksmith named _Tom _would give his children such noble, high-born names?"

Arthur shook his head. The back of his neck was beginning to burn, and the tips of his ears were turning pink. "I…I didn't think about it, I…"

"My sister was acting at my side as Cameliard's queen some twenty years or so ago when we pitched our tents in Camelot for the first and last time," Leodegrance explained. "Dear Gwynhyvar. Guinevere was named after her, you know. She was an excellent queen, but…well, the travelling life is not for everyone, and she wanted to settle down."

Elyan took a step toward the dais where Arthur and the rest of the Round Table (and Geoffrey and Agravaine) stood gaping. "Mother fell in love with a blacksmith of Camelot, and when Uther threw Cameliard out of the city, she stayed behind. They were married and knew every happiness. But Mother never let us forget who we are, even if we couldn't admit it while Uther was king. She taught us everything we know, about our people, our past…she taught me that fighting with words could be just as successful as fighting with swords, and she taught Gwen how to be a queen."

The king smiled fondly and continued. "After Gwynhyvar died, I snuck into Camelot to see the children and grieve with Tom. It was decided that Elyan should come to live with us, to learn what it was to be born to Cameliard. We brought him up as our Crown Prince, until he took to wandering alone."

"...Like me?" Gwaine asked, pointing at Elyan, disbelief spreading across his face.

Elyan nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face. "And Gwen is a princess. We couldn't say anything while Uther was alive. Afterward…well…after Gwaine and Percival, it would have sounded weak, self-aggrandizing, and unbelievable. No one's ever even _heard _of Cameliard anymore, and the Wandering Court hasn't exactly been welcomed. The explanations would have been lame and exhausting. And would it have really mattered, in the end? It was easier to just keep silent."

Leodegrance glanced at him. "Shouldn't you have called Gwen a queen? Unless I _haven't _missed the wedding. Where is she, anyway?"

Arthur had his kicked puppy face on again, on top of the sort of stunned incredulity he had radiated ever since Elyan walked in. Now he forced himself to stiffen and assume his most icy tone. "Guinevere is no longer welcome in Camelot. She has been banished, and returns on pain of death."

Now it was Leodegrance's turn to freeze. He looked confused, then calculating, then more than a little angry. He turned to face Arthur, and the two rulers glared at each other, neither deigning to so much as blink. "…Explain," the King of Cameliard demanded, his eyes burning. "_Now, _please_._"


	44. Guinevere 8

Merlin swallowed at the fury in Leodegrance's eyes, but Arthur didn't even blink. "Another knight," he began, "and one who was a dear friend of ours, came to Camelot."

"We thought he was dead," Merlin cut in. "After all, he sacrificed himself to save the _whole world._" He looked pointedly at the king, who ignored him.

"Only he wasn't dead after all," Gwaine continued. "I mean, obviously, since he came back."

Arthur glared at Gwaine before continuing. "She admitted to loving him, once, several years ago…" The kicked puppy eyes surfaced again, and it took him a moment to beat the emotions back down. When next he spoke, he was all ice and steal again. "Yet on the night before our wedding, she was found kissing him in this very room."

"Well, maybe not so much kissing as eating his face, according to stories…" Gwaine added.

"_GWAINE," _Leon hissed.

"Not helping," Percival muttered, elbowing Gwaine in the side. Gwaine blushed and looked down.

The king of Camelot closed his eyes. "She said she had no doubts nor fears, and could offer no explanation for her behavior other than she didn't know what came over her. She betrayed my love and my trust. In my father's day, she would have been put to death." He swallowed and opened his eyes again, forcing himself to meet Leodegrance's smoldering gaze. "I showed her mercy in banishment."

The king of Cameliard was silent for a long time, though the set of his shoulders grew tenser and tenser and the fire in his eyes grew brighter and brighter. "Was there a trial?" he asked, quiet.

The tone in his voice made all those who stood behind Arthur shrink back and wish they were invisible. The question itself made Arthur blink. "…Well…not really, but I passed judgment as the one wronged—"

"But was there a _trial," _Leodegrance stressed, not looking at the other king. "A formal _trial, _with a proper hearing and a presentation of evidence? Or was in just your hearsay?"

"Hearsay?" Arthur barked. "What _hearsay? _I _saw _her! _Agravaine _saw her! Merlin, too! Three eyewitnesses is _hardly _hearsay!"

"And did you offer her a chance to explain?"

"Yes, and I told you—"

"_Properly? _In front of _witnesses?" _Leodegrance looked up and yelled at the top of the his lungs. "Arthur Pendragon, _WAS THERE A TRIAL?" _

"NO!" Arthur was forced to yell back. "THERE WAS NO TRIAL! I am the KING and my word is LAW! _I _passed judgment on Guinevere Ryence in that very capacity!"

"In front of witnesses?"

"No!"

"So let me get this _straight,_" the other king began, drawing himself up to full height. "A dead hero showed up at your doorstep on the night before my niece's wedding and she kissed him." He snarled. "Guinevere's first love, and a good friend, whom she never thought she would see again. And just as she was about to marry one of the most, if not _the _most powerful men on the entire blasted island and become queen of one of the greatest, if not _the _greatest of the five kingdoms? Did it ever occur to you that that might make even the most doubtless woman a little nervous?" His eyes _blazed, _and there was a unique _growling_ tone to his voice that made everyone shrink back even further. "Do you realize you _banished _your future wife for having _pre-wedding jitters?" _

Arthur's brow furrowed for a moment as he seriously considered Leodegrance's words and put two and two together. His eyebrows suddenly shot up, his fists clenched, his jaw dropped, and he went four shades paler. "I…I…I…"

"And there was no _trial, _no formal accusation, no full explanation, no impartial ruling, just the sentence of a jilted, broken-hearted lover? That's notsensible, nor is it justice. That's just bad _government." _

The king of Camelot flushed dark red. "But…but…but…"

Leodegrance shook his head and took another threatening step forward. _This _time Arthur took a step back. "And you didn't just _dismiss_ a serving girl, Arthur Pendragon. You_. Wronged. _A _princess. " _

Arthur went pale again. "I didn't mean…I mean, I didn't know, I…"

"You have committed a diplomatic crime as well as ," the king of Cameliard said, sounding somehow furious, distant, and imposing at once. "And for that you will pay."

"…Are you declaring war on Camelot?" Arthur asked, still trying to sort out his thoughts.

Leodegrance nodded. "Go ahead and imprison me if you like, but word will get out to the rest of my honor guard. My entire country is camped within half an hour's walk to the borders of Camelot, and we are ready for war at any moment. How ready are _you?_" Arthur, still stunned, made no effort to call for the guards, so the king turned and started to sweep out of the room. "Come on, Elyan. Let's go."

"…No."

And the world fell apart for the third time since Leodegrance stepped foot in the castle.

* * *

**Fun fact for ya. My sister and I cannot watch Lancelot du Lac together. Em hates Lancelot with a fiery passion and screams at the computer when he comes back. I like Lancelot as much as can be expected, but hate, hate, _hate _Arthur's temper tantrum when the kiss goes down. (I understand you're sad, Arty, but _please _do me a favor and _think _about what you're doing?) between the two of us there's a lot of yelling and not much watching. **


	45. Guinevere 9

**Last bunch up today. As always, enjoy!**

* * *

"…What?" Leodegrance snapped, whirling around to stare at the darker skinned knight.

Elyan was standing up straight, his chin up, his head facing forward, his fists slightly clenched. He didn't look like a knight just then. He looked like a prince—and more like one than Gwaine had ever looked. "No, uncle, I will not go with you," he said clearly and slowly.

The king's eyes narrowed. "This man," he spat, pointing at Arthur, "is responsible for your sister's banishment and you will not go with me? You, who acted as my son all those years? We are family, Elyan. Gwen is family. Does that mean anything to you?"

"It does," the knight-prince answered. "And Cameliard means more to me than you know. But Camelot is more. I may be crown prince of Cameliard, but Arthur is my king now, not you."

Leodegrance growled and stepped toward his nephew. "Even though he wronged your sister?"

"Arthur did nothing that was not within his rights to do," Elyan argued, fighting to keep his voice mild. "She was he betrothed and she betrayed him. What she did was _wrong, _Uncle Leodegrance. I don't know why she did it, and I'm not sure that I'll ever know. But I _do _know that she did it and it was _wrong. _She should have faced punishment whether she received a trial or not."

"But Arthur—"

"—Was hasty in his judgment, and should have been more impartial in her sentencing, and wrong Gwen in those ways, but she wronged him first. I miss Gwen, I do, and I wish she had not been banished. But if this comes to blows, my place is with Arthur and Camelot, not you and Cameliard."

A stunned silence met these words as everyone stared at the prince with raised eyebrows and gaping mouths—all except Geoffrey, who had pulled a quill and parchment out from _somewhere _and was jotting down everything that was said, radiating happiness and excitement. It was one thing to _read _history and another entirely to be a part of its making.

Arthur shook his head. "Elyan, if you would prefer to go with your family—"

"I have no wish to fight anyone," he said, not looking away from his uncle. "On the one side I would be killing my birth family, on the other my closest friends. But I remember my vows. I am yours, Arthur Pendragon, for the love of Camelot."

"Vows?" his uncle asked with a frown. "What vows?"

"…Elyan is one of us," Leon said when no one else spoke. "Avowed to fight for Arthur and Camelot until our dying day."

"A Table knight," Percival said with a nod, and all the Table men in the room straightened.

"The only reason we were knighted in the first place," Gwaine admitted. Percival and Leon both elbowed him. Merlin smirked, knowing very well that Leon had pointy elbows.

Leodegrance cocked his head, staring at Elyan. "…What is a Table knight, my nephew?"

Elyan glanced at Arthur before explaining. "A couple of years ago Morgana Pendragon took over Camelot for a brief time. Nine of us managed to escape capture. We remained in hiding and planned to retake the kingdom. One night we were in an ancient castle. Arthur found a table, a round table. He said the kings of the past used them. A round table symbolized equality in all things—no one could sit at the head of a table that had no end. At that table we swore to serve Arthur and Camelot, and to uphold the tradition set forward by the ancient kings."

Gwaine stepped off the dais, followed closely by Leon and Percival. They walked past the calculating king of Cameliard to Elyan. Gwaine shook his hand while Leon and Percival each clapped him on a shoulder. The three stood behind him. "We are the Knights of the Round Table. It is a brotherhood that goes beyond what I hold to you," Elyan finished, holding his head higher. Back on the dais Agravaine's jealousy and contempt was clear on his face. Merlin was bursting with pride while Arthur, still looking a little dazed, shamefacedly blinked back a tear. Geoffrey looked gleeful, scribbling away on his parchment without a care in the world.

Leodegrance looked at each of them in turn, his face unreadable. "…So be it," he said, and turned back to Arthur.


	46. Guinevere 10

"What will you do?" Arthur asked.

Leodegrance pursed his lips and sighed. "…I will go," he said. "All of Cameliard will go. We have no business here."

"And the war?"

"There will be no war," the king said with a graceful nod. "There is some agreement between the Prince of Cameliard that Guinevere was just as wrong as you. I loved Tom Cador just as much as I did my sister, and I consider his blood to be mine. I am not pleased with the ill treatment his daughter has received, but if his son is satisfied…" He glanced back to Elyan, who nodded. "I have no wish to fight my nephew."

Arthur bowed low. "I apologize for my hastiness, but I cannot retract my sentence."

"All I ask is that her case is considered if you should find her again."

"…All I can do is try. My welcome still holds. Feel free to enter Camelot at any time."

Leodegrance snorted and shook his head. "Thank you, _my lord, _but that will not be necessary. Not until Guinevere is as welcome as I. We will go now."

The king began to walk out the door, not looking at Elyan and the knights behind him as he passed them. He stopped at the door to the council room, however, paused, and turned back around. "This Round Table brotherhood," he asked slowly, looking to each knight and Arthur. "Do you feel as strongly about it as your knights seem to? Equality in all things, honor, truth, tradition and the like?"

Arthur frowned, but nodded. "I do."

"…I cannot lie. The idea is intriguing. And…novel to me." His lips twitched into a tiny smile. "It is not a new one, but it has never been presented in such a way before. You are a riddle, Arthur Pendragon. I do hope to meet you again, on better terms than we part."

Arthur lifted his head. "And I you, Leodegrance Ryence. Perhaps someday."

"…Perhaps…" And he turned and walked out of the room.

Elyan deflated, sighing in relief and sagging his shoulders. "Sweet Camelot, I'm sorry, Arthur," he said, shaking his head. "Uncle's always been somewhat obsessed with fair legal proceedings—"

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" Arthur cut him off, frowning at the expletive but not commenting. Perhaps it was beginning to grow on him. "When the caravans first entered the city?"

The dark knight sighed again. "I wanted to be alone, to think about what I needed to say. I didn't know how he would react to Gwen's exile," he said. "And I certainly didn't want to be the one to tell him."

Gwaine was laughing, and clapped Elyan on the shoulder again. "I wish you'd have told me! We could have commiserated about being crown princes of bizarre countries."

Elyan smiled despite himself. "Uncle's really not so bad when you get to know him. What you see is generally what you get."

"I like him, for what that's worth," Merlin piped up.

Agravaine shot him a dark look and stepped forward. "Arthur, I encourage you to seize this opportunity. Take Elyan hostage. He can be leverage against the Wandering Court—"

"To what end, uncle?" Arthur asked, shaking his head, sounding scornful. "They're leaving already, and they don't have any land. I don't want war. Besides, Elyan's a friend."

Gwaine looked hurt. "Oh, but you've no scruples at all with holding me against Father or Garis?"

"Don't be stupid, Gwaine," Elyan said, punching his friend lightly and stepping back toward the dais. "Garis is the only one who'd want you anyway, and I can't figure out why. You still don't wash."

Everyone laughed, even Gwaine. "I'm feeling left out," Leon said as Geoffrey blew on the wet ink. "Merlin, we should form our own sub-Table. You, Gaius and I are the only ones left on the Table who don't have some kind of tie to royalty."

More laughter, especially when Merlin shook his head. "Naw, you're a noble. That's close enough."

Geoffrey's ears perked up. "What ties does Sir Percival have?" he asked, stepping closer.

"None that concern you, Geoffrey," Arthur said. "And the knowledge of Gwaine's relation to Orkney is not to leave this room, understand?"

"Uh," Elyan said. "Would you mind so terribly if I asked you all to keep mine and Gwen's connections a secret, too? We don't want to cause a scandal with a banished princess angle…"

_Note to self, _thought Agravaine, for the second time that year.

Arthur nodded. "If you think it's for the best. Now that the crisis is over…Geoffrey, remember, this stays secret or I take away your library. Uncle, I need you to recover any records we have on the Wandering Court and have the names changed to Cameliard and elevated to their proper place among the records of the other kingdoms. Percival, Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, there's a new batch of would-be knights that need training, and Merlin, don't you have something to clean?"


	47. Guinevere 11

"Really, uncle, this is too much," Guinevere said with a blush, clutching a bouquet of flowers to her bosom as a chest of gold was placed at her feet.

Much had happened in Camelot since the day Leodegrance walked out on the council chambers. Arthur had tried to marry himself off and changed his mind. Morgana had taken over Camelot, and Agravaine had betrayed them all. Arthur had pulled a sword from a stone and taken his kingdom back. And Arthur and Guinevere had been married at last. The day after the wedding Arthur dispatched messengers and Elyan with the news, all of them looking for the Wandering Court of the Kingdom of Cameliard. Elyan had been the one to find them at last and now, a month after the happy event, the Court had arrived. An ecstatic Leodegrance had wrung Arthur's hand and kissed him on both cheeks before beginning to shower Guinevere with gifts, including the gold and flowers, seven brocade dresses and two silk gowns, an engraved box of her mother's jewelry, four pairs of shoes, fourteen knights sworn to her service and hers alone (the knights of Camelot were already eyeing the purple-cloaked men with disdain and Merlin was sure there would be several fights before Cameliardians were accepted among their number), a pair of elongated daggers, and an expert fighter to show her how to use them.

"Nonsense!" Leodegrance said with his trademark grin. He threw his hands up in the air before embracing her for the third time, then turned around and embraced Arthur as well, and _Merlin, _just because he was within arm's reach. "I haven't seen you since you were a child! Think of this as all the birthdays and Midwinters I've missed. Or as your dowry!" He turned back to the king. "The last gift, however, is _yours, _Arthur."

Elyan grinned even wider, having already seen it. He left to help the men bring it in. Arthur, however, started and shook his head. "Oh, no, please. You don't need to give me anything. I have everything I'll ever want right next to me."

Gwen blushed and Merlin rolled his eyes—Arthur's romantic notions had taken a dip toward mushy with Gwen's return. Tristan's continued influence was doubtless part of it. Leodegrance laughed and shook his head. "Oh, no, I think you'll be _particularly _pleased with this."

And with that, Elyan led a small procession into the council chambers. In his hands was a single chair. Behind him, two men rolled a large wooden circle with a Pendragon dragon inlaid in the center. Behind them was a collection of men carrying curved bits of wood, wooden rods, and chairs, lots of chairs. After everyone was inside they closed the doors and looked at the king of Camelot expectantly.

Arthur half-frowned, looking at the company. "Leodegrance, I'm very thankful for whatever it is, but…what is it exactly you're giving me?"

Elyan looked at Leodegrance and the grins on their faces matched. "You tell him," Leodegrance said.

"It was your idea, you tell him," Elyan said.

"No, I insist. You're his knight, after all."

"Come on, Uncle. Credit where it's due."

"Could one of you _please _just tell me?" Arthur said, beating down a wave of impatience while Guinevere giggled next to him.

The two men looked at each other and grinned again. "It's a table," Leodegrance said at last.

"…A table?" Arthur asked, looking at the various bits of wood.

"Yes, or at least, it will be when we get it set up. We couldn't get it through the door otherwise. Where would you like it?"

Arthur gave a breathy chuckle. "It's a…a unique wedding present, I'll give you that."

"Sire," Elyan said. "It's a _round _table."

And the king's breath caught, and he looked at the bits of wood with a gleam of newfound _potential, _his eyes darting back and forth as his mind raced. A smile slowly grew across Merlin's face, and Gwen looked like she was going to cry.

"I told you, it was an intriguing idea," Leodegrance continued. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. When Elyan came and told me everything…there was no doubt in my mind as to what I wanted to do to thank you."

Arthur stepped forward and, kneeling, ran his hand across the dragon inlay. That bit was the only put-together piece, and it itself was as large as the table where the Table Brotherhood had been formed. "…Just how big is this thing going to be?" he asked, a little breathless with excitement.

"Big enough for as many men as you can fit," Elyan said. "It was built to so as to be able to expand as we need. Right now we've got enough pieces to make it sit…oh, a hundred and fifty?"

"It's a good idea," Leodegrance said. "No, it's a _great _idea. We wanted to build you a table that could grow with your kingdom. You will be great, and do great things. The table is a symbol for all the world to see, much less all of your people, a symbol of what Camelot will stand for and defend. Of what you mean do be."

"Oh, Uncle Leodegrance…" Gwen said, running forward and throwing her arms around him. "It's _wonderful._"

"I…" Arthur began, standing and turning back to the other king. "…I can't even begin to thank you."

"Sure you can!" he answered. "You already have, by giving me the idea in the first place! Say, does your welcome still stand?"

"Of course it does, more than ever."

"Good. My people have been complaining of one too many sudden moves lately. We might want to settle somewhere for a year or two, and now that we're fast allies with Camelot, here's as good a place as any. I hear Munsalvaesche is still mostly empty…"

"The table, my lord?" asked one of the men holding the dragon inlay. "Where shall we set it up?"

Arthur looked around. "…Here," he said, spinning in a circle with his arms out to take in all the chambers. "Where better to begin change than my council chambers? Where better to ring in the welcome of a whole new Camelot?"

Merlin beamed. Percival, Westmorland, the druids, and now the Wandering Court and this beautiful table. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was a big step in the right direction.


	48. Reconciliation: Princess Guinevere Again

Nice and short reconciliation this time around, as poor Gwen is rarely all that important.

Guinevere, or Guenevere, or Gwenaver, or Gwenhavar, or Gwynhyvar, or Ginevra, or Gwenhwyfar, or Jennifer, was actually the daughter of the great king Leodegrance of Cameliard. Arthur married her and her father gave them the Round Table (which originally seated a hundred and fifty) as a wedding gift. The end.

Well, I'll admit that the actual marriage has some variance. Sometimes Arthur courts her in the guise of a gardener's boy. Sometimes it is a purely political marriage. Often the marriage is Arthur's part of a bargain alliance to help Leodegrance against King Ryence of North Wales, who had recently declared war on Cameliard. In return for his help, Arthur gets Cameliard's loyalty, a bit wooden wheel, and Guinevere, and Guinevere is often more trouble than she's worth, always getting angry at the insulting behavior of this knight or the other, or sleeping with the ones she's not offended by…anyway.

And, all right, there are a variety of personalities of Guinevere, usually (to my research, anyway) depending on name. The closer you are to Gwenhwyfar (the eldest name) the more likely you are to get a capable, fearsome queen who, while not appearing very often in the stories, is a confident and powerful ruler who would rather die than betray Arthur's love. The closer you get to Guinevere, the more likely you are to get either a queen who appears often in the stories and either was young and foolish once but repented of her adultery or a fickle girl who wants nothing more than to be loved by the greatest knight in all England, whether or not that knight is her husband. Most of that depends on country of origin, however; Welsh, English, and Celtic legends like their queen pure while the French ones prefer the intrigue and courtly romance. Blech.

In this story, Ryence became the surname of the Royal House of Cameliard and I just picked a place for the destruction of Cameliard. Tom got a last name, too, Cador, because in a couple of legends, dear Gwen is raised among the Noble House of Duke Cador. Nice, right?

And yes, there's that whole Lancelot bit, but I'm getting to that. Next set. With Lancelot. Who will not actually appear in the story at all.

And that means there are only thirteen chapters left in this story!


	49. Lancelot 1

**We have now entered the realm of pure speculation. I can officially do whatever I want, because series 5 isn't out yet and this is an AU anyway. Fun, right?**

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The round table was constructed in the council chambers…and in the dining chambers, and in several private chambers. The whole country, in fact, was suddenly agog about round tables, and within just a few months, most rectangular tables were being broken up for firewood. The country was flush with round tables, and everyone simply _had _to have one. It was a symbol of patriotism for most; instead of flying Pendragon flags, they filled their homes with circles. The formal establishment of the Order of the Round Table only added to the wave of round.

After the wedding, Merlin found himself in a rather interesting situation, occupationally. It was extremely awkward between the king, new queen, and old manservant for the first couple of months. At last, Merlin received an unacknowledged half-promotion to servant-slash-advisor-who-is-ignored-half-the-time. Now he began work at eight in the morning rather than the crack of dawn—Gwen gladly took on the responsibilities of waking and dressing her husband, and Merlin had only to deliver their breakfast in the morning. Most of his normal duties beyond that were taken by George, although Merlin would not allow anyone to look after Arthur's armor, except occasionally Elyan, and under Merlin's strictest orders to the rest of the staff, _no one _was to touch the sword, on pain of never been spoken to again. Arthur insisted on Merlin's duty to his stables and rooms as well, as he didn't want to teach anyone else where everything went. Although Merlin suspected that was an excuse to keep George at arm's length. Beyond those few servile chores, the warlock acted unofficially in the position that Agravaine had vacated. Merlin enjoyed the new arrangements even though the work was harder. He was heeded marginally more than before and had a pay raise.

King Lot died a year after Leodegrance's wedding gift was delivered. Apparently he had found out what his armies were doing when they were "attacking" Camelot's towns, and his heart had burst in the middle of the resulting temper tantrum. No one was too broken up about it. Gwaine admitted to be Orkney's Crown Prince, now its king, and released the documents that gave the land to Arthur. Gravain was sent to Westmorland in the hopes that Garis could finish raising the young boy properly. G'reth was sent to Camelot, where he was supposed to receive a knight's training. He did not have the temperament for knighthood and could not figure out that being a "lord" was different than being a "prince." He was learning, however, and improving slowly. It was hoped one day he might even be civil. For the most part, however, he was irritating and underfoot.

Gwaine, much to his dismay, became the proxy Lord of Orkney, both new and old. Gwaine was good at politics—not as good as his brother, perhaps, but he couldn't have been that close to Garis and not have a little of his brother rub off on him—but he despised them. His trips to the tavern tripled, and his pocket money dwindled down to a few copper pennies and a moth. Eventually Arthur had to go to the owner of the Rising Sun and arrange for half of Gwaine's salary to be sent to the tavern once a week; a no-taxes bribe was offered as long as the man refused to give Gwaine any more alcohol than what that amount allowed and sent him home even if he offered to pay for more.

Life settled into a regular rhythm and for the most part, it was happy. They didn't even hear from Morgana anymore. Apart from the occasional hiccup of bandit attacks, everything was peaceful. And nowhere was more peaceful than the citadel itself.

Until, that is, a young man set out for Camelot, seeking to make a name for himself among the great Court of the Pendragon. He'd heard magnificent things of the growing country and was determined to join the knights of the Round Table. When he arrived, the city would be turned on its head once more.

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**Apparently this one wants to come slowly, too. Give it some time and I think I'll be delivering in chunks again. Until then, here you go: guess away!  
**

**Also, one hundred reviews! AHHH! I'm thrilled. You guys are too good to me. Love to you all!  
**

**Also, forgot to mention. The Pendragon inlay in the table in the last set? Guess who saw the Series 5 Trailer multiple times on youtube? Excited beyond belief!  
**


	50. Lancelot 2

**BLITZ UPDATE TIME. Because I never get 'net access on Saturday and I'm EXCITED, DAGNABBIT.  
**

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Percival met him first. He had been leading a patrol for the last week or so and was returning to Camelot when he and his men met with a lone rider in the forest. The rider was a cheery-eyed lad of maybe fourteen, give or take a year, with dark hair and a handsome enough face. "Greetings," the knight said, holding up a hand to halt the patrol.

"Hello, sir knight," the boy answered with a smile. "You wouldn't happen to be on your way to Camelot, would you?"

Percival smiled himself, looking down at his cloak and the cloaks of his men. The Pendragon red wasn't a dead giveaway? "Yes, I am. You're new to these parts, aren't you?" he asked.

"Obvious, am I?" the boy asked with a grin. "Yes I am unfamiliar with this part of the island, and I've gotten myself lost. If you could be so kind as to point the way…"

The big man laughed. "You could join us. We're headed to Camelot right now."

The boy shook his head. "No, but thank you most kindly. I left my last camp early and have already run poor Joya ragged. She's likely to start biting if I work her much more today." He reached down and patted the neck of his sweaty brown mare. "I'm going to stop my journey for the day and pick up again tomorrow. I wouldn't want to slow you down."

"As you wish," Percival said. "There are not a lot of clear landmarks in this part of the woods. You should be able to just follow our tracks straight into the citadel, provided it doesn't rain."

"Thank you," the boy said. "It was a pleasure talking to you."

"The same. I hope you find what you're looking for. Move out, men." The patrol left, but the exchange was in Percival's mind all the way to Camelot. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just spoken with an old friend.

Leon met him next, while he inspected the guards at the gate of the city. He ran into the boy, or rather, the boy ran into him. He was leading his mare within the city gates, staring with an open mouth at the high stone walls, parapets, and gargoyles, when he stumbled into the knight. Leon whirled around, anger in his eyes. "Watch it!" he snapped, but wished the words away when he saw the contrite expression on the boy's face.

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, blushing, scratching his horse's ear. "I wasn't looking where I was going. I've never been to a city this grand before…"

The knight snorted softly. Another country bumpkin out to seek his fortune. They were growing more numerous as peace settled in on Camelot. He didn't mind. After all, Merlin was a country bumpkin when he first came. The problem was that not many of them had Merlin's flexibility, charm, and loyalty. They were getting alternately conned and pummeled, and only the luckiest and most determined made it. This one, at least, had manners. There may yet be hope for him. "Well, be more careful next time," he said. "Do you need directions anywhere?"

"Oh, no, thank you, sir," he said with a sheepish smile. "I haven't figured out where I want to go, yet. I'll ask someone when I do. Thank you."

"No problem." Leon watched the boy's back as he walked into the city, feeling inexplicably like he should have said more.

Elyan was sharpening a stack of swords when he met him. "Excuse me? Can you tell me where I can find an inn?" said a timid voice. The knight looked up to find the boy standing in front of the forge and the brown horse nosing the tools hanging from the awning. The horse looked like an annoyance, but the boy had a likable countenance. He looked familiar, too, somehow.

"You'd best find a stable for that horse before you go gallivanting off to find an inn," Elyan said with a smile, returning to his work. "Strictly speaking, horses aren't allowed in the city roads. It makes things crowded and smelly and dangerous. Or at least, more crowded, smelly, and dangerous than just the people make things. I'd hate to have to arrest someone on my afternoon off."

"Oh," said the boy, crestfallen, looking at the mare. Then he jumped. "Wait, you would arrest me?"

"I'm a knight of Camelot, though I'm not in uniform now."

"Oh, I didn't know. I mean, obviously. I'm sorry." He flashed an apologetic smile. "Can you tell me where I can find a stable, then?"

He finished the blade he was working on and stood up straight. He wiped his oily hands on his stained apron and leaned out of the booth, pointing down the street. "Right down there, turn left at the first crossroads, and walk another, oh, fifty paces. From there your nose will tell you where to go. The tavern's got rooms. It should be within sight of the stables."

"Ah." The boy broke into a smile that made Elyan chuckle. "Thank you, sir knight."

"Don't mention it." He went back to his work, then frowned and looked up. "Do I know you from some—" He stopped. The boy was already a booth away and couldn't hear him over the ruckus of the street. "Never mind…" But he couldn't get the youth out of his mind the rest of the day.


	51. Lancelot 3

Gwaine came next. He was seated at the bar of the tavern finishing off his last drink when the boy walked up to the bar next to him. "How much is a room for the week, sir?" he asked the innkeeper, ducking his head a little. The "sir" caught Gwaine's attention. The boy was eloquent, overly polite, deferential, and reminded him of someone he couldn't quite place.

The innkeeper didn't even glance his way. "Five gold a night, and you'll pay up front. I've had too many people sneaking off on me lately."

Gwaine watched the young man out of the corner of his eye. The newcomer wilted like a bruised daisy and stared down at the bar. "Oh. I've only got three gold." He looked up again. "But I can work my way, if you'd let me, sir."

The innkeeper scoffed. "Not even if I had anything for you to do, which I don't."

"I'll pay the boy's stay," Gwaine cut in. "Such civility must be rewarded." He gave the boy a mock bow.

The boy brightened, then wilted again. "That's not necessary, sir, but thank you. I don't have any way to pay you back—"

"You've just _drank _your last bit of tab money, my lord," the innkeeper argued. "And I like the king's allowances better than your pocket coin."

Gwaine winced as the boy's eyes widened. "_Sir knight_, man, s_ir knight_. The _Lord _thing gives me indigestion. And sent the bill to the king. Tell him that I'm harboring a visitor from Westmorland for the week or something. Just mention Westmorland and you'll get your money with no questions."

The boy's eyes were popping now. "But, my lord, that's _lying. _I'm not from Westmorland."

"_Sir, _if you don't mind. And I won't tell the king if you don't."

He shook his head, adamant. "I couldn't…"

Gwaine rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but grin. "All right. We don't mention Westmorland, then. But you are a visitor, right?" The boy nodded. "There you go."

Still the boy hesitated. "But, I couldn't let you do that…"

"Oh, just give me your three little pennies and we'll call it even." The boy frowned, but fished out the gold. He gave it to Gwaine, who gave it to the innkeeper. "There. It's _his _pocket coin, not mine. Get me another tankard of mead and get my new friend a room."

The innkeeper looked at the money as if it would grow teeth, but ended up scooping it off the counter and passing the drunkard another tankard. Then he drew out a key. "Up the stairs, third room on the left," he said, giving the key to the boy.

"Thank you very much," the boy said, nodding to both the innkeeper and Gwaine. Gwaine nodded back as the boy and his sack vanished up the stairs, a puzzled frown on his face that wasn't driven away by the smell of mead rising up from his cup.

Merlin met him while he was dragging a truly _huge _bag of laundry down the stairs—George had a cold, and Merlin was stuck doing more of his old chores than he would have liked. The laundry was heavier than he remembered—Gwen's dresses weighed a _ton_.

"Do you need some help?" the boy asked.

The warlock looked up and began grinning like an idiot at the sight of the boy, though he didn't know why. "Oh, no, thanks, I got it." He then missed a step.

The boy laughed and rescued him by catching the bag and resettling it on Merlin's shoulders. "Are you _sure _you don't need any help?"

"Well…" Merlin said, scooting over as best he could. The boy took the unspoken invitation and walked down next to him, readjusting the bag onto both of them. "One step at a time," Merlin said. "Ready? Left…right…left…right…"

They settled into a rhythm. "You're very good at marching," said the boy with a smile.

"I ought to be," Merlin said.

"…You're not a knight, are you sir? I keep running into knights doing very unexpected things…"

Merlin chuckled and almost missed another step. "Naw, I'm not a knight. Just friends with most of them. And you don't have to call me sir. I'm just a servant."

"If you say so, sir. I mean…um…sorry." The boy blushed and Merlin laughed aloud.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and set the bag down. "Well, I guess that's me off to the scullery," Merlin said, grinning at the boy. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. "Sorry. Could you give me directions to…" he trailed off.

"Where are you trying to get to?"

"I'm…I'm not entirely sure. I'd like to try out for knighthood, but I don't know who to talk to."

Merlin nodded. "Well, that's easy enough. You'll want an audience with the king, or at least Sir Leon. You…you don't think you're not a little young?"

The boy shrugged. "Probably, but I heard knights are supposed to start training early."

The warlock smiled. "True. Are you any good with a sword?"

"I've been _told _I'm good…" the boy said, looking nervous all of a sudden.

"Good enough for me. I'll talk to the king and see if I can get him to see you."

The boy's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "You _know _the king?"

Merlin's mind went a little fuzzy. He felt strangely like he'd had this conversation before. "Hmm? Oh, yes. I'm _his _servant, in fact. Well…servant and counselor, but we don't talk about the second bit."

The boy tilted his head, a little confused. "…Why not?"

"Because he doesn't like to admit I'm smarter than him," said Merlin with a wink. "Don't worry…uh…what's your name?"

The boy laughed at himself and stuck out his hand. "Sorry. I'm Galahad."

"Merlin," said the servant, shaking the offered hand with another light laugh. He found himself instantly _liking _this boy. He had a pleasant manner and was easy to laugh with.

"Really?" he asked, eyes burning with interest. "I've heard all sorts of stories about a man named Merlin."

Merlin made a face. "Really? None of them horrible, I hope. Anyway, Arthur's always looking for good men. If I can't get you started on the road to knighthood, I might be able to at least get you a position in the army."

"_Thank _you, Merlin," Galahad insisted, bouncing on the balls of his feet in enthusiasm. "Thank you _so _much! I was _worried _about finding a place to start."

"Don't. I'll take care of it. You staying at the Rising Sun?"

"Yes…"

"I'll meet you there tomorrow at noon."

Galahad thanked him again before the grinning Merlin sent him back to the inn. Then he hoisted the laundry over his shoulder and walked into the scullery, trying to figure out what exactly made him agree to introduce him to Arthur that quickly.


	52. Lancelot 4

Merlin was concerned he wouldn't recognize Galahad in the bright light of the noon sun the next day. He needn't have worried. He was there, outside the door, mingling on the edges of the tavern crowd that had spilled over into the streets. There was something different about the boy, something that set him apart from the other townsfolk milling around him. He had…almost a glow to him, something that reminded Merlin a little of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. It was something to do with a place, but he couldn't figure out where.

The boy's face lit up when he saw Merlin and he ran out to meet him. "Well?" he asked, bouncing again.

Merlin, his eyes twinkling, made a face like the task was impossible and nearly laughed when Galahad's expression sank. At last, he could draw out the suspense no further. "I'm taking you to a private training session right now," he admitted, grinning.

The boy looked shocked, then terrified. "What do you mean, private training session?"

"I mean for an hour and a half every day, Arthur trains and takes counsel with only his most trusted knights. His favorites, if you will, the ones who were part of the _original _Order of the Round Table."

Galahad's eyes widened and he looked decidedly less afraid and a little more starstruck. "…I couldn't _possibly _intrude on something like that, Merlin," he said, sounding a little like he was going to faint. "I've…I've heard so much about the Knights of the Round Table…"

"Well, now's as good a time to meet them as any," Merlin said, grabbing Galahad's wrist. "Come _on. _None of them bite, I _promise." _

Galahad protested some more, but Merlin ignored him. He dragged the boy into the palace and towards the smallest, least-often used training court where Arthur, Percival, Gwaine, Leon, Elyan, and Gwen were already assembled. They weren't fighting yet, just sitting in a circle on a bunch of benches, chatting about nothing much.

Galahad went white when he saw the assembled company and Merlin was afraid he was going to faint. The knights all rose to their feet with varying cries of equal disbelief when they saw the boy. "Merlin, _this _is your possible future knight!" Leon asked, amazed. "He ran into me as he came into the city yesterday!"

"I gave him directions," Percival said, looking the boy up and down.

"I told him off!" Elyan said, blushing a bit. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"I've got you all beat," Gwaine said, grinning with mischief. "I arranged for Arthur to pay for his quarters at the tavern!"

Arthur shot a disapproving look at Gwaine. "…So _that's _what that bill was about! I ought to have you thrown in the stocks, Gwaine."

Galahad made a small sound. Merlin pushed him onto a bench. "Um…just give him a minute and he'll be all right. I don't think he realized just who you all were…"

"…You…you…_You're _the knights of the Round Table?" Galahad squeaked. "…I've heard _so much _about you!"

"Except, apparently, a physical description," Gwaine muttered.

"Gwaine," Gwen scolded, walking over to the boy and squeezing his shoulder. "Don't tease. Can't you see how overwhelmed he is? Never mind that, Galahad. I'm Guinevere—" Galahad went even paler. "—and that's Gwaine, that's Leon, Percival, and my brother Elyan. And Arthur, of course. And you know Merlin."

"Speaking of _Mer_lin," Arthur interrupted. "He tells me you're good with a sword?"

The boy swallowed. "I…I've been told so," he said in a small voice.

Arthur snorted, picked up a sword, and tossed it his way. He caught it in an instinctual, fluid move. The king was a little impressed before they'd even started. "Let's see how you fare against one of us, huh?"

That nearly sent Galahad over the edge yet again, but he swallowed and stood up. Arthur nodded to Elyan—the dark-skinned knight wasn't quite as good as Leon or Gwaine, and not as strong as Percival. He was usually the first man any of the newer, younger knights had to face to prove themselves.

Galahad, however, seemed to be a bit more adept with a blade than many of those new knights. Young as he was, he could pretty well hold his own. Both men were sweating after a few minutes. The fight didn't last long—Elyan still had years of experience over the boy—and ended when the older knight managed to disarm Galahad with a tricky bit of swordsmanship. The impromptu session seemed to have really loosened the boy up, and he looked much more relaxed as Elyan helped him out of the dirt and back onto a bench. Everyone applauded.

"He _is _good, Arthur," Elyan said, nodding his thanks to Merlin as the servant handed him a skin of water. He drank deeply, then added "_Very _good. The boy's a _natural._"

"…Huh," Arthur said, looking the panting Galahad up and down with his arms crossed. "…He's a bit too young to knight, really. How old are you, Galahad?"

Galahad took a drink of another offered skin. "I'm…I'm not really sure," he admitted breathlessly. "Fifteen, maybe?"

"And you really want to be a knight?"

"More than _anything._"

"…Why? And why Camelot?"

Galahad took another drink. "My father was a knight of Camelot."

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Yes. His name was Lancelot."


	53. Lancelot 5

Everyone froze, staring at the boy before them, who took another drink and sighed in satisfaction, not noticing the turmoil he'd caused with the words. Finally he looked up into the stunned faces and stared back, a flush creeping over his cheeks. Had he done something wrong?

"...Thank goodness. For a second there, I was afraid he was going to say he was mine," Gwaine muttered, breaking the silence but not the sudden icy tension around the circle. Leon took care of_ that_ by slapping Gwaine _soundly _on the back of the head.

Galahad's blush darkened. "…I'm sorry, I…I guess I should have warned you somehow…I thought you would be pleased…"

"…We are, um…pleased," Elyan said, shooting a look at his sister. Gwen was carefully avoiding looking at either Arthur or Galahad, and might have started shaking. Arthur just stared. "It's just that…"

"We weren't really expecting…I mean…" Leon said, stumbling over the words.

Merlin bit his lip. "He never mentioned…well…" He looked at the ground and shuffled his feet.

"Are you _sure _you're not mine?" Gwaine asked, earning him another round of resounding slaps, from Leon _and_ Percival. He grumbled at them and rubbed the back of his head, then went to stand by Merlin where it was safer.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, shaking his head and _finally _looking alive again. "I…I understand where your skill with a sword comes from, but…it wouldn't exactly be in your best interests to use your father as a reference."

The boy frowned, handing the water skin back to Elyan. "What do you mean? I thought he was one of you. A Knight of the Round Table."

"Lancelot is shamed knight," Arthur said, and though his eyes were alive again his voice was dead.

"…But…after all he did…"

"I don't know what you know of his…activities," the king continued. "He was a great man and…and a dear friend to all of us, once. A long time ago. But he lost his honor since then. He died in disgrace in Camelot's eyes, and was the source of a great deal of…of heartache."

It pained all of them to hear Arthur speak like that, even more so as Galahad was looking more and more confused and crushed the longer he went on. At last the boy raised his head again, a determined set to his jaw, his hands clenched into fists on the bench at his side. "What happened? I want to know, please."

Gwen looked nauseous at the idea of the story being hashed out again. The others looked at each other, then took their seats on the surrounding circled benches. "We're much more interested in hearing your story, Galahad," Arthur said, nodding to the boy. "Lancelot must have been…um…very _young _when he met your mother."

"Well…I guess he was…" said the boy. "I'm from Astolat, which is.…well…outside of Camelot at the very least. My mother's name was Elaine Corbenic. She died when I was young, shortly after Lancelot left us. She drowned. I was raised by my aunt and came here as soon as I could find my way out of Astolat. But _please_, your majesty—why is my father shamed?"

Arthur's jaw twitched, but Merlin nudged him in the side. "He's got to find out sooner or later," he muttered in his friend's ear. Arthur relaxed, just a bit.

"Very well. Do you…uh…well, you know he's dead?" Arthur asked, then nearly bit his tongue. "That is…I mean…you said _was, _I just…"

Galahad gave him a ghost of a smile. "Yes, I know he's dead, and I know he died to stop the Dorocha."

"He didn't," the king said, looking like a kicked puppy again—there was a face the others hadn't seen in a while. "We thought he had, but…a few months after that…about two years ago now…he came back. The Mudhavi people, they…they found him, nursed him back to health. He returned to Camelot and…and…"

"…and I kissed him," Gwen said softly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "The night before I was to marry Arthur. I don't know why. It was the worst mistake of my life. I wasn't even in love with him, not anymore. Not for a long time."

"Gwen was banished and Lancelot…" Arthur swallowed. "I'm _so _sorry, Galahad. He killed himself."

"I buried him," Merlin said softly, "if you'd like to go pay your respects."

Galahad blinked at them all, his look of confusion growing darker and darker with every word. "…Two years ago?"

"Yes," said Gwen.

"…I'm sorry…that's…" The boy shook his head. "No, that's _impossible. _He didn't. He _couldn't._"

Leon sighed and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Galahad, we know this must be a shock to you—"

"Well, you're right about _that. _It _didn't happen. _It _couldn't _happen. Father _couldn't _have been in Camelot having affairs because he was _dead._"

A horrific prickling feeling stirred in the back of Merlin's mind. Something told him that he should have paid more attention to Galahad's short story and Gaius' occasional middle-of-the-night stories about the days when magic was free in Camelot. That the almost-glow around Galahad meant something very important and that the very faint smell of smoke wasn't just coming from him. That he should find a way to end this conversation before it went much farther.

Gwaine sighed. "That's what we thought, too. It was a shock to us—"

"No, you don't understand," Galahad insisted, practically buzzing with frustration. "He couldn't because he _wasn't here. _He was in Avalon. The circumstances of his _death _granted him a half-life in Avalon, as a vassal of the Lady of the Lake."

…Too late.

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**Thank you Smoochynose for the epic Gwaine line icebreaker! I was having some segue issues that that line cleared up quite nicely.**


	54. Lancelot 6

"…What on _earth _does that mean?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin stared at Galahad, trying to tell him to stop talking without actually coming out and saying it. He tried shaking his head, mouthing _no, stop! _and making slicing motions with his hands, but the boy didn't pick up any of the hints.

"…You don't know what Avalon is?" Galahad asked, raising an eyebrow. "Avalon? The Land of Eternal Youth? They've taken to calling it the Land of Apples ever since the new Lady of the Lake took over—"

"Are you talking about _magic?_" Arthur hissed, looking around to make sure they weren't being overheard.

"That's one word for it, I suppose, although Avalon is much deeper and older than that," Galahad rattled on, completely oblivious to Merlin's panicky eye signals to _shut up, for the love of Camelot, boy, shut up!_ and his uncomfortable coughing. "It's a place of rest for magicians and magical things, for the most part, although some non-magical people end up getting half-lives after they die, for doing incredible things or having family there. Father gave his life to repair the tear in the veil between the worlds, and as a result, was given a place in Avalon as a reward. A half-life."

Arthur was numb, pale, and trembling from head to foot at hearing magic so openly spoken of right in front of him. Percival looked increasingly distracted and uncomfortable, as he always did whenever the subject of magic arose. Gwaine was gaping with his mouth open. Gwen was trying to lean as far away from the boy as she could without moving. Merlin was spasming at Galahad to NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD and coughing to cover it up, and Leon, for lack of anything productive to do, was thumping Merlin on the back in an attempt to alleviate the servant's "coughing fit."

Gwaine's mouth closed, his teeth clicking together. "…How do you know this?"

Galahad chuckled. "I didn't come up with it on my own, that's for sure. I'm not very good at understanding that kind of thing, but Lady Vivienne is a very good explainer."

And now Merlin really _was _choking. "Lady…Vivienne?" he wheezed.

The boy nodded. "She's the Lady of the Lake. She's very nice. Father is her knight now. He likes to complain about being dead and still having to do things, but I think he secretly likes the work."

Arthur turned a little purple. "…_What?_"

"_Galahad,_" Merlin hissed. _"You have not spoken to your dead father." _

"But I _have,_" he said. "Quite a lot. He's been teaching me how to fight since I saw my tenth summer."

The knights looked at each other, alarmed and very, very confused. "But he only died two years ago," Elyan said, almost reluctantly.

"Yes, but I was raised in _Astolat." _He looked as if he expected that to make an impression. The only thing it did was send more warning bells off in Merlin's head. Galahad frowned. "…Astolat's a Threshold, a thin spot between worlds, where they sort of overlap? Time is…oh, how did Lady Vivienne explain it? Well…she says time's _sploshy _in Thresholds. Father says she means more _fluid, _but she thinks the funny word fits it better."

He'd talked to Freya, all right.

Arthur turned his ashen face at the largest knight. "Percival," he said hoarsely.

Percival nodded, closed his eyes, and thought very hard of Munsalvaesche. "…It's telling me there's a Threshold near the northwest corner, but it's not Astolat. It's not giving me anything _about _Thresholds."

"…Galahad," Leon asked, something suddenly dawning on him. "Did Lancelot ever say _when _he met your mother?"

Galahad's mouth furrowed in thought. "I'm not sure. He got in by accident, and it very nearly killed him. Mother nursed him back to health, and then got into some trouble herself, and Lancelot saved her. Mother said…she said while he was ill he _mentioned _the name Gwen several times, and something about being eaten by a Wildoeren?"

"That was seven years ago," Merlin muttered. "Remember, Gwen? When you were sold to Halig?"

Gwen nodded, looking nervously at Arthur.

"Well, after he was better, he tried to get out again. But Astolat back then was like a mousetrap. Nearly impossible to get out once you'd gotten in. It's not all that much better now, but that's why Lady Vivienne makes so many trips—Astolat doesn't drain her like other places do, and she's been trying to untangle the magic…"

The boy smiled, just a little. "Anyway. He couldn't get out. I'm not entirely sure what happened between him and Mother. He offered to marry her, but she refused him every time. Said it wasn't fair to bind him to Astolat when he was so determined to get back to Camelot and serve Arthur. She wouldn't leave even if she could—she couldn't see, being part elf and already having used up all her years. When I was three, he found…well, something like a hole in a wall, or a way out of the trap. In any case, it was a way to get out of Astolat, so he took it. Mother drowned a few months later…she loved him. She was missing him. She went to the river for a bath and just sort of…slipped away. My aunt took me in…well, great aunt, but she hated it when I mentioned it.

"Then, when I was nine, Father showed up again, as Knight Vassal of the Lady of the Lake. He said Mother was in Avalon, too, and they'd finally been married. He said he'd loved Mother more than he ever knew he could love someone, and he felt bad that he'd never actually told Gwen that he didn't care for her that way anymore, but it was just too much and too dangerous to explain. He loves to talk about Camelot and all his adventures, and all the things he's doing for Lady Vivienne now…"

Lost in his own thoughts, he suddenly looked thoughtful. "…Actually, there was a time a little while back, when Father said he felt like he'd been torn in half, like the dead-part of his half-life was suddenly just…_gone. _It reappeared a bit after that, but he was very disconcerted about it at the time. He was completely off balance, couldn't get a thing done… I bet _that's _what it was that you met!" He smiled and nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to his audience's agonizing discomfort. "I bet someone snatched the completely dead half of him and raised it into a Shade and sent it to Camelot!" Then he looked, _really _looked at Arthur for the first time since he began talking and frowned. "What's the matter, your majesty?"

Arthur swallowed several times. "Guards," he said, barely more than a whisper. Then he stood and called loud enough to be heard. "Guards!"

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Merlin asked, horrified, as the guards ran toward them.

"…I am trying very, _very _hard to hold my temper," the king said, voice trembling. "I'll not make that mistake again. But…I can't…this isn't…Guards," he said as they drew closer. "Arrest this boy."

There was much protesting all around, and Galahad looked stricken as the guards pulled him to his feet and started dragging him away. "On what charge?" Gwaine asked, hands clenching in fury.

"Sorcery, for now," Arthur said. "I just…I need time. And I need to talk to Gaius and Percival." He walked away and they all rushed to follow him. Merlin came last, shaking his head, trying to plan a way to get Galahad out of this alive.

All the things Lancelot had apparently told his son about Camelot, and he didn't think to mention the fact that magic was _illegal._

* * *

**That's all for today. Hope you're enjoying this!  
**


	55. Lancelot 7

Merlin came down into the dungeons to see the boy the next day. Galahad was in one of the more accommodating cells in the dungeon—and the fact that Merlin knew that on sight told him he should really reevaluate his position in life. The boy looked perfectly content to be in the cell. He was currently sitting in the middle, plaiting pieces of straw together and humming to himself.

Merlin almost laughed at the sheer _absurdity _of the image. "Galahad?" he asked, wrapping his hands around the bars of the door.

The boy looked up and smiled, then stood. "Oh, hello, Merlin. Have you come to let me out yet?"

The warlock frowned. "…No?"

"Oh. I thought maybe the king had simmered down by now." He stood and stretched before pointing at the guard closest to them. "That's Thomas Mallory. He's been telling me about Camelot. Well, mostly just about the laws regarding magic. I had no idea it was such a big deal, but I feel better now. You see, I don't have any magic."

Merlin chuckled, pressing his forehead against the door. "You're very…odd, you know that?"

"I suppose so. I've never really been out of Astolat, so I have no idea what normal people are like." Galahad grinned and took a step toward Merlin. "So what exactly did the king want to talk to Sir Percival and Gaius about?"

"He wanted to know if it was possible that the Lancelot that came to Camelot was really a Shade. Percival's got—"

"I know about Munsalvaesche," the boy interrupted.

"Right. Well. Anyway, they told him what they could. Gaius said he's almost completely positive that our Lancelot was a Shade raised by necromancy."

"_Is_ he almost positive?"

"What?"

The boy gave him a knowing smile. "You said Gaius _said _he's almost positive."

Merlin gaped a moment, then scoffed and shook his head. "You little snake. Actually, Gaius is completely positive. We did some tests on Lancelot when he came back that said he _was _a shade, but we couldn't tell Arthur while he was grieving." He froze for a moment when he realized there was no reason Gaius couldn't just come out and say it _now_, but Galahad was giving him that knowing look again. He swallowed. "Anyway, Arthur's just thinking now. I came down to tell you you're safe. I'm pretty sure he'll let you out soon. In any case, he's not going to kill you."

"He'd have to let me out soon. Like I said, I don't have magic."

The warlock cocked his head. "I'm not entirely sure that would matter much. You sort of…_glow." _

"And _you_ smell like autumn in an orchard. All fire and soft cider," Galahad said with a half-smile and a wink. Merlin blinked and froze again, which made the boy laugh. "Oh, _relax. _Father never outright told me, but between him and Lady Vivienne there were enough hints to guess. The smell just clenched it. I'm surprised Percival hasn't figured it out yet, him being Curiosity and connected and all."

Merlin's hands slipped up and down the bars. "Eh, he can't catch much outside Munsalvaesche, and the connection scares him so much, he'd really rather not try anything."

"That's good to know. Oh! Before I forget." He walked to the center of the cell where he'd been sitting when Merlin came in, picked something up, and brought it back over to the cell door. "This was calling to me from the corner over there. I'm not sure what it's supposed to do, but it's definitely been touched with or by dark magic before." He handed over a slim, engraved metal bracelet.

Merlin took it, looked at it, and tucked it into his pocket. Then he looked at Galahad with both eyebrows raised. "_Calling _to you?"

"I don't _have _magic," the boy said, lowering his voice and glancing at the guards. "But being born and raised in Astolat hasn't exactly left me with _nothing_."

The warlock pursed his lips in concentration, but before he could ask about it he heard heavy footsteps coming toward them. Percival, with a set of keys. He smiled at the two as he unlocked Galahad's cell. "We're to go to Gaius' chambers," he said softly, swinging the door open and waving Galahad out. "Don't worry. He's much calmer now. Very safe."

But how safe would it be if Galahad starting shooting his mouth off about just what it was that Astolat had given him? A nervous knot formed in Merlin's stomach as he followed the others out of the dungeon.

* * *

**I just had to do it. The Thomas Mallory thing, I mean. It's been screaming at me for WEEKS.  
**

**Six chapters left, which is good, because this thing is getting unbearably LONG. And don't worry. The end of this story is not the end of the universe, if you could call it that. I've already got several drabbles written-enough to start a oneshot dumping ground. This thing is too popular and WAY too much fun to write to just let it drop.  
**


	56. Lancelot 8

"Arthur, what are you going to do?" Gwen asked, touching his arm.

There was a determined set to the king's jaw that no one in Gaius' chambers liked to see. He'd sent Percival to collect Lancelot's son, yes, and he seemed much calmer than he was when the boy had been talking magic. Galahad was in no danger of _dying, _but banishment had always been more Arthur's speed anyway. At Gwen's touch and question, he jumped, very slightly, clearly lost in his own thoughts. He gave her a half smile, but said nothing.

The tension in the room rose. Either he didn't know, or he didn't want to say yet.

Gaius sat at the table, "studying" a book on magical creatures raised by necromancy. "Everything I've found fits the description of the thing that was with us, sire," he said, looking up. "I am quite sure that what your young Galahad proposed was the truth of the matter."

"So Lancelot—what we thought was Lancelot—" Leon began, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. "And we disgraced his name for _years…_"

Gwaine stood sharply from his chair, the rage practically rolling off his skin. "I need some air," he grunted on his way out the door. "I'll be back soon."

"Guinevere, you kissed a dead man," Tristan said, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "..In all senses of the word. _Ew…_" Elyan glared at him, but he ignored it. After two years, Tristan and the others had a complicated love-hate relationship that _almost _touched on the brotherhood the Knights of the Original Round Table shared. Almost, but not quite. He was new to these meetings and the others were still trying to get used to him.

"But what's going to happen to him?" Elyan asked. "Galahad, I mean…" His eyes slid over the motionless king, then looked to Leon for an answer.

The older knight shrugged. "He hasn't actually used magic in Camelot, so he hasn't broken any laws. We can't keep him locked up forever. It's up to Arthur whether he wants to trust a man with that much experience with sorcery."

They all looked at Arthur again. Arthur sighed and was about to answer their unasked question when the door to Gaius' chambers opened again. In walked Gwaine again, and behind him were Percival, Galahad, and Merlin. Gwaine took the chair he had just left while Percival closed the door and leaned against the wall. Merlin remained behind Galahad, fixing his eyes on Arthur's face, praying for another Westmorland.

"Yes, sire?" Galahad said with an easy smile, rocking on his feet. "You wanted to see me again?" Out of everyone in the room, he and Percival were the only ones who seemed comfortable, and even Percival was frowning.

Arthur nodded and smiled weakly back. "I wish to apologize for the wrong we did your father," he said, his voice even and quiet, but still carrying across the room.

"That's all right. I'm sure he didn't notice."

Several other pairs of lips were cracked at that statement, but the king stood firm. "Whether he noticed it or not, we should not have trusted the…the Shade so readily. We should have been more suspicious of its arrival and actions. I believe this was a clever ruse constructed by my half-sister, Morgana."

"That's too bad." Galahad nodded. Then he startled. "Oh! Does Morgana dabble in enchantments, or just necromancy? Merlin—"

The servant drew the bracelet out of his pocket—and at the sight of it, Guinevere squeaked and covered her mouth with her hand. All eyes fixed on her. "…that…that bracelet…La—the Shade gave it to me…"

Merlin nearly dropped it on hearing that. He looked at Galahad, then at Gaius. "Galahad, are you thinking—" he began slowly.

"I think so," the boy said. "What does Gaius say?"

"What does Gaius say about _what?_" Gaius asked, raising an eyebrow. Merlin walked over and gave it to him.

"It's enchanted," Galahad said. "I'm not sure with what. I thought you might be able to figure it out. Now I think I have a pretty good idea of what kind of enchantment it was."

The physician examined the bracelet, watching Merlin out of the corner of his eyes. The fingers on the warlock's hands wriggled. Then he brought them together in front of him, in the shape of a heart. Gaius actually looked at the bracelet, then, seeing the symbols carved around the inside, and nodded. When he looked back at the others, his face was very grave. "If Merlin and Galahad think this has been enchanted with a _love charm, _they are correct," he said, showing the bracelet to the knights and their majesties who had gathered close together in curiosity. "These symbols are marks of the Old Religion. If you wore this when you kissed the Shade, Gwen, your heart was not your own. You were spelled."

Everyone stared at the bracelet for a moment. At last, Arthur started chuckling. It was a hollow, hurt, defeated sound. "All this time," he half-whispered, still laughing. "All that _heartache. _We are _idiots." _

He wrapped his arms around Gwen as she began to cry. Elyan looked completely taken aback while the others turned away, giving the king and queen as much privacy as they could. That is, until a recovering Gwen asked the question Merlin had been sort of hoping everyone would forget about.

"I threw it away, in my cell. Galahad, how did you find it?"

They all turned back as Galahad shrugged. "I was put into the same cell—"

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief.

"—And it called out to me."

Sweet. _Camelot. _


	57. Lancelot 9

"…It did _what?_" Gwaine asked, and as the knights perked up with looks of horror on their faces, Merlin realized he wasn't the only one who wanted to see the boy stay in Camelot. He was a piece of the old Round Table they never thought they would get back. Besides that, they just liked him.

But the stupidly honest boy just shrugged again. "I thought you might want to know before you did anything else with me, seeing as this _is _Camelot. I don't have magic, but I was born and raised into a magical family, and in a Threshold into the Land of the Everyoung. Well, maybe not a _magical _family, per say, as Father had nothing and Mother was only _maybe _one-quarter elf and couldn't use it, but the fact remains—"

"Galahad, slow down," Leon said, holding up a hand. "You'll have to explain things the long way. We're not all Percival."

Tristan, who didn't know much about the _other _side of the Round Table because it never occurred to anyone else that he _didn't _know, turned to look at the big knight as if he'd sprouted wings. "_What _about Percival?"

"Nothing about Percival," Percival muttered. "Percival's confused, too."

The boy chuckled. "All right. Astolat _is _magic. A bit like Munsalvaesche, but not quite, because Munsalvaesche stands on its own. Astolat starts in Albion and bleeds into Avalon. _All _children born in Astolat have some kind of gift. I'm sensitive to magic. Sometimes enchanted things call to me, especially when they've lost their masters." He hesitated only a second before going on. "…And Lady Vivienne called me a natural scry. A weak one, but one regardless."

"…What's that?" Gaius asked. Everyone stared at the physician, who cocked his head. "Scrying I understand, but I've only read about natural scries in passing. No one ever wrote anything about them."

"Seers get a lot more attention," Galahad said, almost apologetically.

Despite what he'd said, Percival caught on first as Munsalvaesche continued to leak him information. "…You have visions, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted with a nod while everyone else went pale. "Only of the present, never of the future. And usually not very clear, either. I'm trying to learn how to control or direct them, but I need a lot more practice, and a teacher with more time than Lady Vivienne." His gaze drifted toward Merlin, who smirked and shook his head. "So you see, I don't have magic, but I do tend to toe the line. If you don't want me to stay, I understand."

The _other _line-toer glared at Arthur, and the message was very clear. If Galahad was dismissed from court, _Percival _would be going with him.

_And that might not be such a bad thing after all, _the king thought, an idea brewing in the back of his head.


	58. Lancelot 10

Arthur, just as he had shown in Westmorland, could be frighteningly calculating when the occasion called for it. He raised his head, his eyes glinting with something no one could quite identify, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Galahad, I'm so sorry. I _can't _allow you to stay. I've let _so many _people slide by…"

He winced at Percival's cold stare and continued. "When magic is so _completely _brought to my attention _in the middle of Camelot, _in front of _witnesses…_"

Tristan had a feeling that was him, and he didn't like it. When could _he _break into this whole Round Table business?

"…I'm sorry, really I am." Arthur _sounded _sorry, too, although whether it was because he had to dismiss Galahad or because Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and Tristan were silently giving him death threats while Leon, Gaius and Merlin looked like he'd just outlawed birthdays, no one knew.

Galahad was put out, and it showed—and that was that hardest thing of all. The boy hid nothing. The disappointment was stark in his dark eyes and his young, handsome face had turned toward the floor in despair. "I told you, Arthur. I understand." He lifted his chin again. "Father would, too. There's nothing you can do."

Arthur shook his head sadly, ignoring his impending doom at the hands of his most trusted knights. Then he cocked his head. "…It's not the people, so much, mind. We could keep you hidden from them, basically, and I don't think they would mind anyway. It's _my _father's old nobles, the ones who still scream sorcery every time someone sneezes. If it were just up to me, you could stay."

"I know. When do you want me to leave?"

"Hmm?" the king said, a dreamy look in his eye. "Oh, I guess two days would be enough time."

This confused the four knights who were currently sneaking up on him, assassination on their minds. "…Enough time to what?" Percival asked, sensing danger.

Gwen was sensing a plot and poked her husband in the ribs. He didn't even flinch.

"Enough to…nothing," Arthur said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry again, Galahad. I wish there was another way."

"What are you planning?" Gwen whispered into his ear. His only reaction was to give her a small squeeze. _Merlin_ now realized what Arthur was doing. That blank, stunned expression that had appeared on his face when he put Garis in charge of Westmorland appeared again.

Galahad shrugged. "I can't say I'm pleased about it. I guess I'll have a story for Father this time around, won't I?"

"Quite," Arthur said, smiling _just _a little. "…I suppose, though, I _might _be able to keep it hidden from _most _of the nobles…and it's really not much of a magic, is it? If we could do something that would convince them of your loyalties to Camelot…"

And the four knights behind him froze and stared at each other. _What? _

Hope appeared again in the boy's eye. "…How could we do that?"

The king rubbed his chin with the hand not holding Gwen's waist. "_Well…_I suppose if we could convince them you would only use your abilities for the good of Camelot, or if we were able to show them how petty the abilities really were, or how strategic they could be."

Merlin snorted. He was _really _planning something. Not only had he talked about utilizing magic, he'd said _strategic—_his least favorite word.

"What would I need to do?" Galahad asked, smiling and starting to bounce again.

"…Those visions of yours. Can you have them whenever you please? About whatever you want?"

The boy hesitated, then nodded. "Like I said, I'm not very good…"

"That's all right. Listen, while you're being banished, if you could fetch a certain something for us and return it to Camelot, I would not only _ensure _you're welcomed with open arms, I would make you a squire."

Just like that, the boy was glowing again. "What is it?"

"Nothing much. Just a little wooden cup…"

* * *

**Okay, so it's not wood in the show, but it started off being wood at the beginning of this story, so wood it's going to stay. This is completely AU anyway. So there.**

**Also, _yikes. _I just might finish this thing today.  
**


	59. Lancelot 11

The two "banished" men were gone for two months. It might have been longer, if it were anyone else, but between Galahad's visions and Percival's Curiosity and connections, they were able to do a fairly good job of tracking the elusive band of sorcerer's charged with protecting the Cup.

At the end of those two months Percival arrived at the city gates, informing the closest guard that King Arthur was to be brought to the outskirts of the city on a matter of some delicacy. His cloak was tattered, his clothes were travel stained, and they didn't like the looks of his dark-hooded traveling companion, but there was a kind of triumph in his eyes that made the guard scamper off to find the king as fast as he possibly could, protocol be hanged.

The king had been in the middle of a council session, so protocol _was _pretty much hanged. When he heard who it was hanging around the city like a beggar, he didn't wait to hear the message. He shouted for Merlin and Gwen as he _ran _out the door and down the hall.

Elyan and Tristan were away on an extended patrol, but Leon and Gwaine saw the Royal Household and manservant running towards the city gates and guessed what was going on. When the five of them reached the gates, more than a little out of breath, the big knight grinned and pulled his companion forward.

Galahad threw off his hood and pulled the Cup of Life out of the folds of his dark cloak. He bowed, then knelt at Arthur's feet with his head still tucked. He held the Cup up to his king, all formality put off somewhat by the incredibly wide smile spreading over his face and sneaking into his voice. "My king, your goblet. I vow fealty to Camelot, if you'll have me."

Arthur nodded, trying to be solemn though his own lips were twitching violently. "I accept your vow, Galahad…um…do you _have _a last name?"

The boy looked up. "I don't know. Lady Vivienne calls Father Lancelot du Lac, but that's not _really _a name. More of a title."

Merlin smirked. "Trust me, it works the same way."

Arthur shrugged and lifted the Cup from the boy's hands. "I accept your vow, Galahad du Lac. You are welcome."

He blushed and bit his lip. "Even though I am heavily associated with magic?"

"Well, you don't have it yourself, so get up out of the dirt and let's get you and Percival some decent clothes, huh?" Arthur said, pulling the boy up out of his kneel. He ruffled Galahad's dark hair and pushed him toward Gwaine, Leon, and Gwen, who were all eager to welcome the boy back where he belonged. Arthur shook Percival's hand and thanked him for looking after the boy before turning the big knight loose among his friends again. Therefore, it was only Merlin who saw what happened next.

Beaming like an idiot, he turned to from the others to see why his best friend was lagging behind. The smile fell from his face, replaced by a worried, pained frown. The king had welcomed Galahad from the bottom of his heart, but part of his happiness had been faked. He was now leaning up against the city wall, staring at the dirt by his feet, his eyes heavy and worn. His hands trembled as he raised them to his face to wipe the sweat and signs of weariness off of his forehead and cheeks. When he pushed away from the wall, he walked with a shuffling apathy that only changed to his usual proud swagger after he saw Merlin watching. He shot his manservant a grin, ignoring the look of worry, and followed after the others.

Arthur was _tired, _the warlock realized. Not just rundown or ragged around the edges, but honest-to-goodness _tired. _He stared after the king, all feelings of gratefulness at Galahad's return gone.

It wasn't the magic that was bothering Arthur, he knew. He'd shown too much acceptance—though perhaps, not enough for Merlin's tastes—to be troubled by anything as trifling as a few uncontrollable visions.

But it didn't change the fact that Arthur was tired, exhausted by something. If not the magic, then what?


	60. Reconciliations: Lancelot du Lac

And that's the end of Lancelot's secret! No appearance, sorry, but I hope Galahad made up for it.

Here's another doozy of a reconciliation for you. Lancelot was, in legends, a prince, the son of King Ban of Benwick, and Elaine. Note that he did not turn back into a prince for this, nor was Galahad suddenly elevated to royalty even though his mother was, in legend, a princess. Also note that Lancelot's mother's name was Elaine. I think he had a thing for the name. Lancelot was called Lancelot du Lac because he spent three or four years VERY early in his life—like, toddler early—in the protective care of the Lady of the Lake. Often Lancelot was born with the name Galahad, but it was changed at this time. Du Lac means "of the Lake." And the Lady of the Lake usual has a soft spot for Lancelot in legends, though not the same soft spot she has for Merlin.

Here's a fun fact for you. Sometimes Lancelot is described as having the face of an angel. Sometimes he's described as being so hideous that all the girls fell in love with him out of pity.

Lancelot did a lot of pretty cool stuff, but the most notable one was have an affair that lasted several years with Queen Guinevere. The story of their meeting and "love" (because the degrees vary) differs from writer to writer. Sometimes it's love at first sight, sometimes she gets to know him before she knows Arthur. In any case, Lancelot and Gwen mess around for several years before either one of them comes to their senses and breaks it off or someone defeats Lance in a contest of some kind and he tries to die of shame. In the end it is their affair that destroys Camelot, as it made Arthur jealous and he went and fathered Mordred. Well, and also because in some cases Arthur tries to have Gwen burned at the stake when he finds out about the affair and Lancelot kills several good knights (like Gawain's brothers) in order to save her. Then Arthur becomes so obsessed with getting his own back on Lancelot that he doesn't notice Mordred quietly wrecking his kingdom in the background.

Oh, also, he has his own castle, Joyous Guard. And his sword is enchanted, too. It's called Joyeux, which is why I named Galahad's horse Joya.

Galahad is conceived when Lady Elaine of Corbenic and her conniving father find out that Lancelot's progeny is supposed to do spectacular things with the Holy Grail, and they are bound and determined to work their bloodlines (supposedly going back to Joseph of Arimathea) into that future. Her father, King Pelles, enchants Elaine to look like Guinevere and arranges a clandestine meeting between the two. When Lancelot comes to his senses and realizes he did NOT, in fact, spend the night with his lover, he tries to kill Elaine. He forgives her when she admits she's pregnant with his kid. Although sometimes Lancelot just leaves the castle in despair and doesn't know he has a kid until years later when said kid comes to Camelot. Elaine never stops loving Lancelot and eventually marries him. Sometimes Lancelot loves her back and that's the end of that. Sometimes he goes mad with grief, pining for Guinevere, and Elaine dumps him.

Elaine of Astolat is the famous Lily Maid of Shallott, who tended to Lancelot when he was injured and fell in love with him. He left, having no idea that she loved him. She pined away, too, finally lowering herself into a boat, shoving off down the river toward Camelot. In stories and poetry it's always very romantic, like she died of a broken heart. Just slipped away knowing she was headed toward her love. I like to think she floated to death. It has a nice ring to it.

While his father is off breaking hearts and floating people, Galahad is being raised in absolute religious purity, in a nunnery where his great aunt is the abbess. When he reaches manhood, he goes off to try for knighthood. Eventually he arrives in Camelot and takes his place in the Siege Perilous at the Round Table. At this time, a vision takes place and the knights are shown the Holy Grail. In the Lancelot/Galahad stories, anyway. And Galahad goes off to find it. In the Lancelot/Galahad stories. And sometimes even _then _Percival is the one who eventually claims the grail. Bors sometimes goes with them, too, but he gets ditched partway down the road, and in few stories, it's GAWAIN who takes the place of Grail Knight. (Yeah, Gawain's kind of a big deal.) Eventually Galahad gets himself his own sword-in-a-stone story and a nifty shield to match. He doesn't die, but does this crazy ascending thing, where sometimes he goes into Heaven and sometimes into another world, similar to Avalon. Possibly Avalon itself.

To tell you the truth, I'm not a humongous fan of Galahad/Grail stories. I prefer Parzifal.

Next up: MERLIN. You know what to expect. Five secrets that blew up in Arthur's face…


	61. And One For Merlin

**...And one secret Arthur blew open himself.**

* * *

"Merlin, am I stupid?"

Merlin stopped polishing Arthur's shield and looked up, a smart retort burning on his lips. It died when he saw Arthur's dejected face. It was a month after Galahad's triumphant return and two days since Percival and Guinevere left on a state visit to Munsalvaesche. Merlin knew he'd been in a sour temper since Gwen was gone, but he didn't know it was _that _bad. If the king looked that _hurt, _it wasn't a time for jokes. "No, Arthur. As much as I tease, you're not stupid. You're quite clever. And even if you don't like politics and diplomatics and things, you can play the lords better than a bard can play a lute. It's sort of amazing to watch. You make your people proud." In anyone else, it would seem as though the praise was a little heavy handed, but both of them knew Merlin _never _voiced admiration lightly.

The sad frown remained on Arthur's face. Merlin stood and set the shield aside. He walked toward Arthur's writing desk, grabbing a chair from a smaller table. Pulling it up to the desk, he sat and leaned on the wood of the desk, pillowing his head with his arms. "Mind telling me why you asked?" he said, voice soft with concern.

Arthur took a deep breath and stared at the floor, his eyes empty. "…I've been thinking about the last several years. Everything that's happened. And I noticed something. Morgause lied to me about Mother, and then it turned out she was telling the truth and Father was letting me believe it was a lie. In fact, he lied about it rather than her. And he was lying about Morgana, too. She was my sister. And then she was evil. And then she had magic. And magic is evil, Father _told _me all magic is evil, but he lied to me about the other things and I didn't see anything wrong with the magic on the road to Westmorland and the Fisher King said magic loved me and Galahad was raised in it and he's all right, though he's all the wrong age, which is creepy, and Percival's magic would kill him if he put a toe out of line. And I killed a dragon, but it didn't die. And a castle fell on the only other dragon egg we knew of, but somehow there are two of them. Dragons, I mean. Gwaine is a prince. Percival is the heir to an enchanted land, which is kind of like being a prince, but more like being a mouthpiece. Gwen really was a princess all these years and never said a word, and Elyan a prince, too, a crown prince, to boot. And Gwen betrayed me with Lancelot, only she didn't, because Lancelot was dead, but then he wasn't, but that was really a shade and he might be half alive somewhere being someone else's knight and he had a son out of wedlock. And Agrivaine was evil all along, too. Am I missing anything else?" He snorted. "Or, let me guess, you've got some kind of secret, too."

"Oh yeah, I'm magic," Merlin said, then sat up straight and clapped his hands over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say anything at all, but Arthur was on such a roll he felt like he _had_ to complete the list. Arthur stared at him, the same blank look in his eye, not saying a word. Seconds went by and still nothing. Merlin lowered his now-trembling hands and continued as if he couldn't stop himself, rushing through some points and stumbling across others. "Um…Technically, uh, I'm a, um, warlock, so I was born with my magic. So, uh, I haven't actually broken any rules. Except I did start to study, er, sorcery, after I came to Camelot. Butonlytoprotectyou! I've never actively done anything to betray you, or commit treason, or break a law, other than, er, of course, the actual study of um, magic. And the, um, thelying. Although technically, I never said I _couldn't _use magic… Uh…I've been saving your life almost weekly ever since I first arrived...and I, uh, might also be, um, a dragonlord. The last dragonlord...and, um, theonewhosetthedragonloose in the first place, although I did that before I was a dragonlord, and I didn't know he was going to go all crazy and roast the castle, although I guess I should have known, because I'd be angry, too, if I had to spend twenty years chained up in a pit…And, er, I, uh, might also use an aging spell to be, um, Dragoon the Great, but yourfather'sdeathwasnotmyfault. I mean it was, but it wasn't. I mean, Morgana got to him before me, I swear, the spell would have worked if she hadn't spelled him first…And, er, there's sort of a, um, prophecy. About us. The two of us. You're kind of the Once and Future King, although if I'm perfectly honest with you, I'm not entirely sure what that means any more than you do, and I'm kind of EmrysKingoftheDruids, your sworn protector, and we, uh, may be destined to raise up the kingdoms and unite them all into Albion, although I think you rather sort of did that without much help on my part…" He swallowed. "…Arthur? Please say something."

Arthur blinked. "…Oh, you're finished? I thought there might be more." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck.

Merlin frowned, trying to decide whether the words were sincere or sarcastic. "…That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

The king's hands dropped into his lap. "After all that's happened, it hardly surprises me, that's all."

"…what?"

"Well, it only serves to prove my point, Merlin," he said, leaning forward again. "A couple of years ago I would see all this as betrayal upon treason, just one right after the other. But it's _everyone, _Merlin, _everyone _lies to me, even _you, _who I loved as the little brother I always wanted and never had, and if you tell anyone I said that I'll cut you to ribbons, magic or no." He shook his finger in Merlin's face before taking a breath to continue. "I'm honest, aren't I? I _hate _lying, can't stand it. Can't stand lying, can't stand being lied to, but it happens, every day. I was angry, for the longest time, at everyone, then at myself. I mean, I _thought _I was a good judge of character, but apparently I'm just…gullible. And really stupid."

"No, Arthur, you're not," Merlin argued, although his mind was reeling. Arthur knew he had magic and he wasn't dead yet. That had to be a good sign. And Arthur loved him as a brother, which he'd known for a while, but it still made him positively giddy to hear the words. Terror, confusion, and happiness were an insane emotive combination, and in the end Merlin settled for confused, which took the least effort.

"No, Merlin, I'm not," Arthur said. "But there's still a problem, see, because I'm _not _stupid, and I'm _not _gullible, and people were still keeping things from me. And you know what I decided that problem was?"

"Um…no?"

He kneaded at his temples with his fingertips. "Me. See, I _was _angry at first, but then I saw how foolish that was. If one person betrays you, get angry. If everyone betrays you, you're doing something wrong. So what is it I'm doing wrong? Clearly I'm not trustworthy."

"But you are!"

"No, I'm not. If I were trustworthy, Morgana would have come to me about the magic. _You _would have told me about the magic. Lancelot would have told me about Galahad. Gwen and Gwaine might have said _something_ about being royalty. I _have _been stupid not to see it before, and I realize now something's got to change. If my _dearest friends _feel like they can't approach me when they have a problem, then what _right _do I have thinking my people can approach me with their problems? It's bad government, is what it is, and what's more, it makes me feel like I am as distant as my father. He was devoted and meant well, but that's not enough. I intend to be a better king than my father."

Sometime during his little speech, Arthur had stood and started to pace back and forth in front of Merlin, alternately pulling at his hair and holding his hands behind his back. Now he stopped and blinked at his surroundings as if not entirely aware that he had moved from his chair. He groaned and flopped back into the seat, letting his head fall into his folded arms. They stayed like that for almost a full minute, Arthur pouting with his head on his desk, Merlin tense and confused across from him. At last, the king peeked at Merlin over the top of his elbow. "Do you really have magic?" he asked, his voice muffled by his sleeve.

Not trusting himself to speak, the warlock nodded.

"Can…can you show me?"

He hesitated a moment, then looked at the flickering candle next to him. "_…Drakon_," he said, and the flame grew and twisted into the shape of a dragon the size of Arthur's fist. It gave a tiny, smoky roar and, at a glance from Merlin, launched itself away from its candlestick. It flew twice around the room, wings trailing flame like a red cloak of Camelot, before coming to rest on Arthur's desk, in front of the king himself. It bowed its head to the king and dissolved, becoming an arch of fire from the unscorched desk back to its candle before settling into a normal candle flame once more. The gold left Merlin's eyes.

Arthur stared at the candle. He'd went as stiff as a board when the dragon formed in the flame, but as it flew, he'd relaxed. Now a smile was spreading across his face. "…That was…_brilliant._"

"…So you're not going to kill me?" Merlin asked with a nervous half-chuckle. His hands were still shaking.

"Well of course not, _idiot. _What did you expect?" He rose from his chair again. "Help me get ready for bed."

Not another word was said while Arthur changed into his nightshirt and flopped onto the bed in a manner not in the least bit suited to a king. Merlin, gathering Arthur's laundry from the other side of the room, held back a grin at the sight. Some things would never change.

"Merlin, I want you to come in extra early in the morning," Arthur said as he settled under the covers. "No excuses and no tardiness, not tomorrow."

"What for?"

"I think I'll be angry in the morning, and I'll definitely want answers. I want to get the _whole _story, and to yell at you a good long while. I need to get it all out of my system before I repeal the ban on magic at the council meeting tomorrow evening."

Merlin choked and dropped the laundry, gaping at Arthur—although his head was the only thing that could be seen over the top of the bedclothes. "W-what?"

The blanket moved. Merlin guessed Arthur had shrugged. "Between Percival and Galahad and Gwaine's hair 'tonics'—don't think I don't know about those—it had to happen sometime. And there's Westmorland, too, and all its people looking to come home—and Garis, wanting off the throne as soon as possible…Though he _did _say he'd stay if I changed the laws, he'll have less power if I began treating Westmorland like our other provinces and that would make him happy—Sweet _Camelot, _and he'll have to tell me he told me so, too, won't he? Anyway, you've just cinched it. It's time to throw this whole secrets lark out the window. Perhaps it's even time to see what 'Once and Future King' really means. Unto Albion, right?"

Merlin smiled—a real smile, a perfect smile, a _free _smile, feeling an exclamation of joy bubbling just beneath the surface his skin. "Unto Albion, Arthur. _Thank _you."

"No, thank you. Get the candles, please?" Merlin nodded, shifting the laundry into one hand and reaching for the snuffer. Arthur laughed and shook his head. "Come on, Merlin. Surely my future Court Sorcerer can do better than that."

Merlin _smiled _again, but it soon fell into a grimace. "Uh…"

"What is it now?"

"Court _Sorcerer? _You're going to make me the Court _Sorcerer? _Because I'm not, at all, in any way a sorcerer. Or were you not paying attention when I said _warlock?_"

"_Really, _Merlin? You tell me you've been lying to me for years and when I voluntarily give you a promotion in response, you want to argue _semantics?" _Arthur groaned, but there was a smile on his face. "How about Court Warlock? Or is that too limiting?"

"I doubt you'll be able to find one after me," Merlin admitted with a modest blush. "At least I've never met another one."

"…All right. What would you call someone who uses magic in the most general sense entirely?"

The warlock chewed his lip. "…Magician?"

"There we are. You're to be my Court Magician, and you expect to put out a few candles with a snuffer? The city of Camelot will be the shame of the magical community in Albion, I can already tell."

"We'll see about _that." _Another perfect smile and a flash of gold and every candle in the room extinguished itself at once. "…Good night, Arthur!" he cried, heading for the door.

"A very good night indeed," he heard the king mutter as the door closed behind him. "A very good night indeed…"

* * *

**Don't think that's the end. **

**I've got a two-shot sequel already half-written and a drabble/one-shot dumping ground for this world in the works. Also thinking about slaving away come series 5 to reconcile the show to this story rather than the other way around, but that sounds like A LOT of work, and frankly, I'm a little lazy. On the other hand, there are lots more legends to play with, and waaay back when this was just Gwaine's place, didn't I mention something about a wedding?  
**

**You guys have been an absolutely fantastic crowd. I love hearing from you in reviews and PM's, and getting these stories to you. You never fail to brighten my day. I hope this has been as much fun for you as it has for me.  
**

**Much love,  
**

**THE END.  
**


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